Violet Fire
by Nessa'fur
Summary: A millennium has passed from time of King Jonathon IV and Tortall has faded from its former glory. Now, an old enemy from the Age of Heroes threatens to destroy them all...But hope comes in the form of a redhaired foreigner with a special Gift.
1. Prolouge

A Note from Nessa'fur:

To everyone who is unfamiliar with Violet Fire, I would like to say, "Welcome! Feel free to skip this Author's note and get to the good stuff." And if you have read this story before and are wondering what the hell just happened to the other 43 chapters, then here is my explanation. I gave up on this fanfic originally because the beginning no longer meshed with where I wanted it to go. I realized, in the process of writing, that by following the storyline of The Blue Sword (as I had intended to) I was doing a great disservice to Ana, Will, and all my other characters. The only excuse I can claim is that I was very young (I started writing this when I was 11) and so inspired by both Tamora Pierce and Robin McKinley (still my favorite yf author) that I did not see that Harry's story is not Ana's story. Yes, they have had similar experiences. Yes, I was greatly influenced by Harimad-sol's tale…but they are very different characters and have different things to share about those similar experiences. And since I'd already muddled it, I decided to just give it up.

Fast forward four or five years (since I gave up on the story, not since I began it) to when I recently began receiving reviews of Violet Fire. I had completely forgotten about this little fic, and all of the sudden I was getting reviews again, asking me to please update. I've always loved and respected my reviewers (the nice kind _and_ the other kind) and the reminders got me thinking, once again, of Thaylia and Tortall… And, of course, once I was back in Ana's world I was thoroughly hooked. I started writing not only what had yet to happen, but also re-writing what had already happened into what should have happened. The results are as follows. Much of the story is the same, but much of it is very different as well. I hope that you will all bear with me as I try to remedy the blunders of a younger self and, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

~Nessa'fur

Violet Fire: Prologue

Somewhere in the Realms of the Gods, the Goddess sighed. The movement of her breath sent a ripple through the air. It sailed down, down until it reached the ocean, then the coast. Her breath flowed on past the ruins of what had once been Pirate's Swoop, and still it continued on. Past the wild forests, into the desert. It blew on until it reached an oasis. In another time the small pool had been called Lake Tirragen, but that name had long been forgotten.

Standing at the top of a sand dune, just outside the oasis, William of Conte felt the cool sigh of the Goddess on his face. And, for a moment, he felt all the power of the gods laid out before him.

But the moment passed, and he slowly sunk back into a thoughtful reverie.

"Desert," he muttered, spitting the word as if it were a curse. "Desert waste, where there were once green hills. Now there is only sand all the way to the Drell River valley." Will sighed. In the distance he could see what had once been a castle or fief, half-buried in the drifting sands. Which it had been was a mystery, even to him. It was said that long, long ago there had been a great battle on these plains, a battle that lasted for so long that eventually the hills themselves became flattened by pounding feet of the soldiers. "So much has been lost." The histories that still survived, and there were precious few, said little about the locations of certain towns. They told only that they existed.

Will sighed again. So much that they had once was gone. Tortall was disappearing, fading. Its people dying, its treasures lost. It was said that once Kings had had the power to command the land itself, through a jewel that shone like the sun. No more, no more.

_But now is not a time to dream about the past_, Will reminded himself. _There are newer, fiercer enemies than time._

"And they move quickly, Your Highness." Will looked over his shoulder at the tall, dark haired man who had approached silently from behind.

"I'm sorry Lucas," Will said. "I didn't realize I spoke aloud."

Lucas of Silverlee, Commander of the King's Own, just laughed. His laugh was loud and boisterous, a purely happy sound. It rang out across the desert, a sharp contrast to the bleakness of the surroundings and his own dark mood. "Cursing at the desert won't stop the Scanrans from gathering that army at our northern border, Majesty, and talking to yourself isn't going to make Thaylia any friendlier.

Will sighed; it seemed he was doing that a lot lately. "Well I guess I will have to go through with the plan. I can only hope that what the spies tell me about the Thaylians is untrue. We cannot hope to fight both Scanra and Thaylia at the same time."

"Hope is something we've had precious little of, these past years."

"Too true," Will sighed again, "too true." He turned to Lucas, and an ironic frown flitted across his face. "If there was ever a time for the Gods to return, it would be now."

Lucas didn't respond, not even to acknowledge the joke. Will supposed his seriousness was warranted. Sometimes it really did seem as if the only way Tortall would make it through the coming years was if the Gods of old returned.

They stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the future as they gazed over the desert. "Tell me, friend," Will murmured, "Why is making peace so much more difficult than making war?"

"Because, the greatest things to have are the most difficult to obtain."

Will turned an astonished face toward his Commander. "Lucas, I do believe I just heard something philosophical come out of your mouth."

Lucas clapped Will on the back and he tried not to wince; Lucas's hands were just as strong as they were massive. "I'm not just brawn, you know, I've got a great and brilliant mind."

Will tried to smile, but his mouth couldn't quite manage. The King of Tortall did not have many reasons to smile these days; he was out of practice. "Obviously I shouldn't get used to it," he muttered, then ducked under Lucas's retaliating blow. Lucas turned to wallop him again, but Will danced away from the punch, leaving behind only the echo of his caustic laughter.

"Infuriating little boy-king!" Lucas grumbled good-naturedly. Will attempted a smile again, with better success, but he said nothing and both men turned towards a group of tents circled around the oasis.

Their arrival was greeted with enthusiastic cheers from the King's Own. Their dinner would no longer be delayed because of the King's tardiness.

After all had been fed and watered, the King stood up and motioned for silence. A sudden hush came over the company. Only a few knew what was coming.

"For those who do not know," Will began, "tomorrow I and another are to cross the Drell River into Thaylia. We have all heard the rumors that they are planning to cross the desert and once again attempt to conquer our lands, as their ancestors tried of old." The men murmured angrily, and someone hidden yelled, "Let them come! We beat 'em before; we can beat 'em again!" The anonymous shout was greeted by cries of agreement.

Will held up his hands, a small smile lighting his face. "Your enthusiasm is heartwarming," he said, "but you must remember, my grandfather bested the Thaylians only because they have no knowledge of magic. Their numbers were and are vastly superior to ours. He was only able to stop their advancement; he failed to drive them off the continent completely. Defeating the Thaylians again would take a vast amount of energy and man-power, but it is not impossible.

"Unfortunately, however, the Thaylians are not our only concern at the moment. We have a much more dangerous enemy knocking on our doors: Scanra. Scanra has a vast number of men as well—not all of which are human—and they also command magic. Dark, evil magic yes, but magic just the same." Will paused, uncertain of how much to reveal. He decided that these, his closest and most trusted men, must know the grave truth. "To even have a _chance_ at defeating them, we will need to utilize everything we have and more. Every man who can fight must fight, as well as, every mage, and every beast ever befriended by a wildmage. Everyone must contribute for the coming battle with Scanra because its outcome affects everyone. Every Tortallian—every man, woman, child, and animal will suffer if the Scanrans win."

Will stopped, letting his point sink in. The Own was silent, contemplating the terrible consequences of the looming war. After a moment more, Will continued carefully emphasizing each word. "We cannot afford to split our forces. We must throw everything into the battle with Scanra; no one can be spared to fight the Thaylians. That is why there must be no war with the Thaylians. That is why I must go tomorrow and find out the truth of the rumors. And if it is true that they plan to invade us, I must find a way to change their minds. If need be, I will meet with them to try and make peace between our peoples."

The final statement caused an angry cry from the Ownsmen. One man yelled, "Peace? With those barbarians?"

Will raised his hands, and the din quieted. "I know their culture is foreign. I know that they have different gods, and that their tongue differs from our own. I also know that we cannot fight both them and Scanra," he paused, "Most of you know that Scanra has a new war leader, Li Dubyn. Being a half-imp, half-human he has gathered both immortal and human alike to fight this war against us. Our spies tell us his army grows steadily, and that we may only have until spring for the attack. We cannot hope to win this war if we have both Scanra and Thaylia to fight. That is why we must extend the hand of peace to them. Whether they take it or not is up to the Gods now. I'll need you all alert and ready if we have to leave quickly." Will halted, considering whether to reveal anymore. "You're dismissed."

Will waited until all the Own had left and faced the remaining five. He avoided the eyes of his commanders, hoping to evade the questions he saw lingering there. The Own might readily accept his excuses about searching out the sources of the rumors, but his commanders were not fooled. Seeking out information was the job of the Spymaster, not the King, but even a flimsy excuse was better than none.

He could not bring himself to tell his commanders the real reason for this journey.

"I sincerely hope there were no spies in our midst just then, because I certainly gave them an ear-full." Will said, with forced levity. Lucas quickly jumped in, assuring him of the Owns' loyalty. Will smiled at his Commander's certainly, but did not protest. Instead he announced, "I'm taking Rob with me, and no objections." He looked pointedly at Lucas's open mouth. "Rob is the only other person here fluent enough in Thaylian to be able to converse easily with Imperials. I also want someone with a fully trained Gift. Over the river magic may be more important than swords. Rob, we will leave before first light, so get some rest. Everyone else is dismissed as well."

There was a lengthy pause. None of his commanders made a move to exit. There were all looking at him expectantly. "Is there anything else you wished to discuss with us?" Tohmas, his Chief Healer, asked pointedly.

"No." Will said firmly, but he could not quite bring himself to meet their suspicious gazes. "There is nothing else to discuss. Rob and I will go to Ithsma in the morning."

There was another long moment and then Rob slowly got to his feet. "I should get to sleep then, if I'm going to have to drag these old bones out of bed before the dawn." Will gave him a grateful nod as the others followed suit.

Will was alone, with only his doubt to comfort him. Were the rumors true, and if so, would the Thaylians listen to a plea for peace? Would they become allies or enemies? Only time would tell.

And so the future of Tortall lay. Not in the hands of man, but in the hands of the Gods.

~ ~:~ ~


	2. Ana's Lullaby

Chapter One: Ana's Lullaby

Her earliest memory was of her father.

It was also her only memory of him. She must have been very young, for time had reduced the moment into sound and sensation: the warmth of a lap and the slow steady beat of a heart, the rhythmic whistle of breathe. What she remembered most clearly, however, was his voice: deep and masculine and comforting singing a slow, sad lullaby:

"Hush now little one, fear not the night. The lioness will watch over you tonight. Hush now little one, please don't cry. I go to war, but not to die. Hush now little one, I won't be long. Please forgive me when I've gone. Hush now little one, fear not the night. The lioness will watch over you tonight."

At the time she had not understood the meaning of the words, only the soothing tone. Even if she had understood the implications of the lyrics, she would probably have dismissed it, for children always believe their parents will be with them forever. And yet, the song had stayed with her, haunting her long after the rest of her memories of her father had faded into darkness.

Later, others would fill in the missing details of the moment, fleshing out the gaps that youth and innocence had left behind, until it seemed as if Ana could see her father in memory as clearly as she saw herself in the mirror.

_"Hush now little one, fear not the night," he sang. Ana could feel his voice vibrating in his chest, "The lioness will watch over you tonight." _

She had an odd habit of recalling that moment whenever a dark mood took her. Now was one of those times.

She sat on her windowsill, looking out at the City. Beneath her, the City proper spread like a massive, many-legged beast stretching almost as far as the eye could see. Far below, people scurried like rodents, or cycled on two-wheeled bicycles dodging traffic. In the distance, she could see the sun reflected off the harbor and the white sails of returning ships.

Most people would have found the view breath-taking at the very least, but for Ana it held no pleasure. She hated the City, with its thick smog, crowded streets, and soaring skyscrapers. While most of the Citizens were fiercely proud of the Empire's capital City, looking on it as the epitome of human ingenuity, Ana saw only ugliness. The only reason she'd asked her mother for the tower room was because the noise of the crowds and the screech of machinery was muted by the height.

And because others seldom cared to climb the final three stories without a lift.

Ana sighed. At times like these she couldn't help but feel resentful of her father for leaving her here, in the hated City. _He could at least have had the decency to take me with him, _Ana thought, _I do not belong here, any more than he did._

The Court had no room for the sickly daughter of the Empress's fourth husband. Especially a fourth husband from a foreign land and rumored to be deranged. Empresses could marry whomever they wanted, but that didn't mean the Court had to be happy about it.

_At least he had the good sense to run off when he realized he wasn't wanted_. Ana had spent her entire life being scorned by those who had disliked her father. This was practically everyone. Her only comfort was her half-siblings, Marghi and Darius. Marghi was the daughter of the Empress's first husband, as well as the Heir-apparent. Darius was the son of the Empress's third husband (the second husband had died in battle only a few days after his marriage). Both were quite a bit older than Ana, but were always a source of love and support.

But tonight neither was here to comfort her. Darius was leagues away, off fighting on the distant frontiers of the Empire. Marghi, though within the very walls of the palace, was even further yet, studying and training for her ascension to Empress. Ana was alone, with only her troubles to keep her company.

Last night had been her eighteenth birthday. Her Mother had insisted on a celebration, much to Ana's frustration. The night had started fairly well. No humiliating comments had been made—within Ana's hearing, at least—and Ana had stepped on only one person's feet while dancing. She'd even managed to sound diplomatic when she accepted the birthday toast that Marghi gave.

Then, just as she thought the night might not be so terrible, the headache started. It hadn't been bad at first and she put it off as too much sela. She had been dancing with Gerhard la'Mirha, a high-ranking courtier, when the pain suddenly increased exponentially. Ana swallowed back a mouthful of bile, fighting against the nausea that always accompanied one of _those_ headaches. It was so horrible that she dropped her partner's hands and clutched her head.

Gerhard la'Mirha, incensed that Ana had suddenly stopped dancing, tried to grab Ana's hands away from her face. Other dancers whirled by them, throwing contemptuous glances over their partner's shoulders. Humiliated, Gerhard finally snatched Ana's hands, throwing them back into the dance, but Ana stumbled, blinded by her headache. Her ungainly dress tripped her up, and suddenly she sprawled in the middle of the dance floor.

Ana barely even noticed her fall, distracted by the excruciating pain. Acrid vomit rose up in her throat, and she threw up her birthday dinner all over Gerhard la'Mirha's shiny boots. Nearby courtiers stopped dancing and stared while Ana moaned in agony. Just as she thought nothing could get worse she heard a titter, which soon turned to a laugh. Mercifully, she fainted.

When she woke Mother was next to her. Doctors bustled about, checking the various machines that monitored her. But Ana had eyes only for her Mother. The Empress smiled softly, "You are awake." A doctor hurried up next to Ana's bedside. He examined a few machines, then bowed repeatedly to her Mother. "Majesty, her vitals look well." The doctor's head bobbed his ungainly bow, like a chicken just learning to peck.

Her Mother gestured to the doctor. "Leave us," she said, with quiet authority. The doctors immediately stopped what they were doing, bowed, and backed out of Her presence.

When the final guard had closed the door on them, her Mother finally turned to her. "Ana," the Empress sighed, moving closer to stroke her youngest daughter's cheek. "Ana…Ana." She shook her head. "What are we to do with you?"

Ana looked up into her Mother's eyes. "Must you do something with me, Mother?"

The Empress raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow. "Ana, darling, why do you insist on tormenting the courtiers?"

"_I_ torment _them_?" Ana let out a derisive laugh. "Mother, you know how they detest me. They are the ones who torment me!"

"You have no love of them either," The Empress retorted.

"Yes, well, they deserve none."

The Empress sighed. "Why can you not simply behave, as your brother and sister do? Learn to deal with the courtiers, instead of taking insult to the slightest thing and flying into a rage?"

Ana snorted. "Perhaps because everything those simpering idiots say and do is absolutely infuriating."

The Empress laughed. The happy sound was unexpected, unusual coming from her Mother's lips. "Ana, darling, you do have an amusing way with words. Or perhaps it your propensity for utter honesty, especially in all of the wrong situations." There was a pause. "I will sorely miss that," her mother continued, switching from the Imperial 'we' to the personal 'I', "so seldom do I hear truth spoken so plainly."

Ana blinked, "What do you mean, you will miss that?" she asked quietly.

Her Mother reached out, placing a hand on Ana's shoulder. Her face was again the impassive, grave face of the Empress, devoid of motherly warmth. "We have decided that the City is no longer the right place for you." She paused, waiting to gauge Ana's reaction. Silence stretched between them. The Empress sighed, shaking her head as she continued, "As soon as you are fit to travel, we are sending you to the country, to one of the border towns. Officially, we are sending you as a Liaison between Ourself and the Commander General there. Of course, you won't have to do any real diplomatic work; there hasn't been any action on the Shani frontier in fifty years." She paused and a small smile came to her lips, flicking across the stony face like a ray of sunshine. "Just imagine: there won't be _any_ courtiers."

Ana's heart raced with a sudden hope. She'd dreamed for so long of escaping this place, it was almost unimaginable that it might actually happen. "But," Ana said slowly, "what of the doctors? I thought they wanted me to stay in the City?"

A pained look stole over her Mother's face, one that Ana knew all too well. "The doctors think that perhaps some fresh air will do you well…and We agree."

Later, as she sat brooding on her window-sill, Ana couldn't help but feel torn about her upcoming journey. Yes, she had waited her entire life to escape the confines of Court and the City, but she would also miss her Mother and her sister dearly.

And then there was the other reason for her journey, the reason no one mentioned in her presence, but was generally known nonetheless: her mysterious sickness. Ana knew, though no one had ever told her, that she was going to die very soon. Her Mother was really just sending her away to die in peace.

"Hush now little one," Ana sang softly, her gaze roaming over the City for what might be the last time. "Please don't cry. I am being sent away to die."

The door to her tower room burst open and Marghi swept in, closely followed by her usual train of guards, scribes, and courtiers. Ana quickly jumped down from the window-ledge; startled at the unusual visit. She sank stiffly into a deep bow.

"Majesty," she said in her best imitation of courtly manners, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Several of the courtiers were smirking at the simple furnishings of Ana's quarters. She felt her face burning with anger at their intrusion into her private space. No doubt they had jumped on the opportunity to see her rooms—none of the Court had yet set foot inside them.

In an uncanny imitation of their Mother, Marghi dismissed the courtiers with a wave of her hand. The courtiers bowed and backed out of her presence as well, though that was only required in the presence of the Empress, not the Heir-apparent. Ana found herself wistfully wishing that they would all fall backwards down the tower stairs.

Marghi glided forward, her impassive Court-face suddenly dissolved into concern. "Ana, you cannot leave," she cried, pacing in her agitation. Ana opened her mouth to speak, but Marghi cut her off. "I simply won't allow it. I'll talk to Mother, make her change her mind. She's crazy to send you away, especially after you've just had one of your episodes…"

"Marghi…" Ana tried to interject.

"…How could she think that sending you to some distant outpost would cure you? When you have all the best doctors in the land right here in the City! What can the country do that they cannot? It isn't as if we haven't got the finest scientists working at all hours..."

"Marghi!" Ana yelled. Her sister's rant cut off abruptly. Marghi was clearly upset; she hadn't even noticed that her elaborate coiffeur had come undone in her frantic pacing. "Marghi," Ana began again, more gently. "Mother is doing me a great service by letting me go to the country."

Marghi let out a very un-lady-like snort. "Please don't tell me you believe that _nonsense_ about you being a Liaison? You were always a hopeless politician."

"No, Marghi," Ana shook her head, "you know I am not _that_ blind. And you are right; I was never any good at politics, in or out of the Court. I can never understand the games and intrigues employed by the Court to vie for favors and power," Ana smiled mischievously. "And you know very well I've never been able to mask my true thoughts with honeyed half-truths, nor master the precarious dance between flattery and subtle insult."

Marghi laughed softly. "True. You have always been very straightforward—remember the time you told Reghar Delacrox that for having such a large, bulbous nose he was exceedingly odorous?" Marghi giggled at the memory, "Oh, I thought I would die laughing! Everyone holds their noses and talks behind their hands at him, but no one has ever been courageous enough to say something to his face. That is precisely why you are so comforting after dealing with those simpering idiots all of the time."

Ana smiled at the echo of her earlier words, "I don't belong here, Marghi, and you know it."

"You can't leave Ana, you just can't." Marghi grabbed Ana's hands, clasping them in her own. "Sometimes I think you are the only person who keeps me sane." Marghi's face suddenly brightened, "And if you leave, how will the doctors find a cure for you?"

"Marghi," Ana's tone was serious, "there is no cure for my sickness."

"Ana!" Marghi exclaimed, "How can you give up hope so easily? The doctors—"

"The doctors have been searching for a cure for eight years, Marghi. Eight years!" Ana punctuated each word with a forceful shake. "If there was a cure to be found from science or medicine, they would have found it!"

Marghi's eyes were filled with tears, but her voice was strong and steady. "Eight years is nothing in the scientific community. Other cures have taken much longer than eight years to procure. I won't give up on you. I refuse to believe there is no cure." Ana let go of her sister, to turn away, but Marghi grabbed her arms, forcing her to stay. "Darius believes as well. You know that every where he goes he searches, seeking out wisdom the Empire knows not." It was Marghi's turn to shake Ana to prove her point. "Why do you think he has traveled to the most distant lands? Why do you think he asks for the most remote assignments? He is always looking, always asking, always learning. He will find you a cure, Ana, I _know_ _it._"

"Marghi," Ana hissed, "I am dying."

Her sister's eyes widened, and she dropped Ana's arms, backing away and shaking her head. "Marghi," Ana continued, her voice as dead as her hope. "Even if there is a cure, no one will be able to find it in time to save me. You have to let me go, Marghi. You have to let me die."

A spark of anger appeared in Marghi's eye, and she straightened, throwing her head back regally. Her posture changed, and suddenly, though her face was a mask of tears, she looked like the Empress she would one day become. "No," she said, and the single syllable was an order—an order from an Empress. "We will not give up hope. And neither will you."

With that final pronouncement she swept around, exiting the room as swiftly and as imperially as she had entered it.

~ ~:~ ~


	3. Dreams

A note from Nessa'fur:

What? Three chapters in two days? Can it be? Am I still the same Nessa'fur as before? Maybe so, maybe not, but I just couldn't resist uploading this BRAND SPANKING NEW chapter after the lovely reviews I got last night. Enjoy, and as always, R&R

Chapter Two: Dreams

The dream was always the same.

It started with a girl, a girl so familiar, yet unknown to him. She stood on his balcony, facing away from him. Her posture was relaxed as she leaned out over the railing, surveying the city that unfolded beneath her. In the streets below he could see his people going about their final business of the evening. Mothers called to children, as craftsmen made their way home for supper, and thieves and journeymen watched their purses from the shadows. Beyond the city, the sun set over green hills, its final rays bathing the city with its red glare.

Then she turned and smiled at him; a smile that compelled him with its crooked familiarity. That smile held a subtle promise, a hope. Her long hair swung around her as she whirled, lit into a fiery glow by the setting sun; its long tendrils leaping in the wind like the flames of a fire.

With a dawning horror, he realized that it was not just a trick of the light; her hair _was_ on fire. The flames licked around her face, reflecting in her violet eyes, until it seemed as if she were burning inside and out.

Beyond her, the streets of Corus burned as well; his people screamed and cried as the flames of the setting sun consumed their houses, their possessions, their lives.

She reached out her hand toward him, her palm open like she was expecting him to give her something, or perhaps to put his hand in hers. Her hair swirled around her extended arm, turning the smooth skin black and charred, until it fell away, exposing the white bones of her skeleton.

He stood, frozen, but unable to look away as she burned and his city burned with her. The flames leapt in front of his helpless eyes, moving and jumping into shapes, figures. He saw an army in the fire, an army that flowed over the hills like a deadly sea, covering all the land in their wake. Before them stood a lone figure, a man and his horse, with twin blades pointed at the coming tide. He saw a man, wreathed in shadow, waiting on a mountaintop, as a storm raged around him. He saw the sun setting over the desert, reflecting off the tents of a small camp. He saw an ungainly building next to the banks of a river swollen with spring melt water, where soldiers patrolled on the battlements. Two riders approached the building, one waving a stick with a bit of white fabric tied to the end. Finally, he saw a marketplace, where a banana vendor handed a ripe fruit to a girl with red hair and laughing violet eyes.

Then the flames died, their deadly work done. In front of him stood her skeleton; the empty sockets of her eyes seeming to rebuke him, while her bleached hand still stretched toward him in her final plea.

"Will!"

He stared at the tiny bones of her hand; they looked so fragile.

"Will, wake up."

_Not yet_, he thought, _its not over yet. _He took a step forward, reaching out his hand to touch the smooth bone of her index finger. But it crumbled beneath his soft touch, and her skeleton dissolved into a fine powder, which swirled into the wind.

"Will, you're dreaming." Rob said, shaking him.

Will opened his eyes to meet the concerned gaze of his chief healer. The dream still clung to him, hovering about the edges of his vision. He sat up slowly, looking about him at the small, unfamiliar room. It was very dark—probably the middle of the night—but he could just make out the shadow of their saddlebags lumped in one corner, next to Rob's bedroll.

He was in the Inn at Ithsma, of course. They'd arrived earlier that day, disguised as two Thaylian merchants. Rob went to the market, while Will visited every inn and alehouse. It was a precarious game they played, trying to mingle with the citizenry and not call attention to themselves, while probing for the sources of the rumors. He quickly learned to pick out the people who would most easily answer his casual questions, and spent a fair amount of money on ale. That had caused a spot of trouble at first, for Thaylian currency was quite different than Tortallian, but a few well-cast spells remedied the blunder.

There were many rumors. Some men claimed that Thaylia was planning to invade Tortall within the week, while others laughed at the suggestion, saying that the Empress was content to keep the borders where they lay. Still others talked of the military's concern for the rumored host gathering to the North. One man even said, in strictest confidence, that the garrison's General had requested more troops and been denied by the Empress.

Rob had heard much the same from the rumormongers in the marketplace. Sorting fact from fiction was impossible, so they'd retired for the night at the Inn to regroup and recover from their journey.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Will said, rubbing his hand over his face, chagrinned that Rob had witnessed him dreaming.

"Bad dreams?" Rob asked quietly.

Will nodded. In his mind's eye he saw again the girl's face, smiling at him even as she burned. "My dreams have been very troubling of late." He sighed, "But that is to be expected; we are living in troublesome times."

"The air over this Thaylian town is enough to give anyone bad dreams, Majesty," Rob replied, matter-of-factly. Will gave him a small smile, grateful that he would not press the matter.

"Go back to sleep, Rob," Will said, "Dawn approaches quickly and we've much to do on the morrow."

He lay down again, pulling the blankets over his shoulders and closing his eyes. He heard Rob following his example across the room, but before his eyes he saw the face of the girl, her violet eyes sparkling and her teeth flashing in her hopeful grin.

~ ~:~ ~


	4. Ithsma

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Another chapter for your reading pleasure. Thank you, thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far! Though I must ask that, if you were unfortunate enough to read the previous version of this story, please refrain from giving away future events in your reviews! We wouldn't want to ruin the surprises up ahead for first time readers, right *winks* However, if there was something from the original that you _really_ want to see in this version, feel free to email me about it at . No guarantees, but I'll see what I can do. As for the questions some of you have left in your reviews, I will address them at the end.

~Nessafur

~ ~:~ ~

Chapter Three: Isthma

She hadn't been able to sleep properly since arriving.

It was the silence that kept her awake at night. In the City there was always sound; machines whirring in the distance, the subtle hum of electricity. Her tower room had lessened the chaotic noise of civilization, but there had always been some sort of sound.

Here there was only the heavy, oppressive silence.

The walls of the garrison were extremely thick, so as to deter possible invaders. This was a good defensive strategy, but it also had the effect of muting all noise. During the day it was unnoticeable, in the company of other people and with sunlight streaming through the thick-paned windows. At night, however, with the doors and windows closed, the garrison was silent as an empty tomb. Her room, cozy and cheerful by day, was similarly transformed. Alone in her bed, Ana could only stare at the ceiling while the silence pressed in around her.

Even when she did manage to fall asleep, she had strange dreams, full of odd creatures that peered in the steel-barred windows at her.

Mornings were always a relief. In the long hours of the night Ana would eagerly await the moment when the sun's first rays would peek over the sill of her tiny windows, signaling the end of her long, silent vigil. Usually she was already sitting at the little table when the early maid came to wake and dress her.

If she had known about the awful silence, she would have asked her mother to send her elsewhere. The Empire was vast, surely there were other places without either frenzied noise or oppressive silence. Such foreknowledge was barred from her, however, so she'd been shipped here, to the very ends of the earth, where she could find no rest.

There was not much here, at the border. The River Drell marked the end of civilization and her country. The opposite shore started what the natives called the Tortallian Wilds. The Thaylian side of the river held only a small town and a small garrison of a few thousand troops. Mother named the western border of Thaylia, Shani, the land of mystery. Not much was known about the history of the farthest reaches of the Thaylian Empire. The land kept its secrets held fast and the natives held them even closer.

This did not prevent rumor, however. The troops at the garrison murmured that Tortall was gaining strength again. They whispered that the new king was powerful beyond belief and he was uniting what had once been a shattered nation. But there were also other rumors. Rumors of strange beasts which appeared in the night to steal livestock from their pens. Rumors of natives with mystical powers and a city with no skyscrapers at all. Most exciting of all, however, were the rumors of a great host gathering in the north, a host big enough to easily overrun the four thousand cavalry stationed in Isthma.

At first, Ana had been excited. Away from the crowded cities of her homeland there was a chance, if a small one, of adventure. All her life, Ana had longed for an adventure. As a child, she had spent countless hours scampering about the Palace, inventing grand tales of adventure. They all involved a beautiful heroine and a handsome warrior who, through their acts of bravo, always managed to save the day. Though she'd never been allowed to travel, her brother brought her back stories and trinkets of lands foreign and exotic. Under the influence of her brother and a good many adventure novels, Ana dreamed of someday leaving on her own quest.

Of course, that dream had died when she'd gotten sick.

But when she'd first arrived in Isthma and looked across the river into the desert she'd felt the same expectant thrill that had hovered round her childhood games. Yet all she had found in the foreign land was tedium. She wasn't even able to milk the locals for stories because she was always accompanied by an escort, her only privacy at night and in the bathroom. Once or twice she'd tried to escape her guard, but it was next to impossible in a garrison full of soldiers all bent on keeping her in eyeshot.

But at least there were no courtiers.

The door opened and a servant bustled in. Ana was already up, composing a letter to Marghi.

"Awake again, majesty?" she cried, "Did you sleep at all last night? I swear I saw your light burning until the wee hours of the morning, yet here you are, already up and out of bed!" She waggled her finger admonishingly. "How will you ever regain your strength if you never sleep?"

Ana smiled impishly, "Good morn to you also, Mari. Doesn't the sun shine brightly today? Wouldn't it be a lovely day for a walk by the river? Exercise would be nice, for I've barely been outside since I arrived."

Mari snorted. "And have you run off again? It was three hours before we found you, anything could have happened in that time!"

"Mari," Ana replied, "why must I always be in the company of soldiers? I'm a grown woman, I don't need to be followed around like a wayward child!"

"And what would your mother—may She live forever—do if something were to happen to you? She'd probably behead us all, in one fell swoop."

"She would not." Ana looked longingly toward the window, where the sunlight looked cheerful and friendly. "Please, Mari," she begged, "I simply cannot stay inside another day. I've read every book in the library that wasn't about military tactics—and some of those besides. I've walked every length of hallway, explored every nook of every room. I will surely go crazy if I cannot walk underneath the sky today."

Mari's lips were pursed, but she looked Ana straight in the eye, obviously contemplating. Finally she broke the gaze, with a weary sigh. "What a charge! Here you are, supposed to be resting and all you want to do is run around outside." Ana opened her mouth to protest, but Mari held up her hands, "Aye, Aye, you'll go outside," her face darkened, "but only if the doctor says it's okay."

She turned and left, probably to fetch the fore-mentioned doctor.

Ana smiled and bounced out of the chair to celebrate her triumph. She walked over to the window and peered out. The sun was fairly high and the people of Isthma were rushing about like ants below her. In the distance she could see the silver glint of the River Drell.

How she wished to be like those people! Going about their daily business as usual, never a thought for those who might envy them. If only she could be normal! Then she would saddle up a horse and cross the river into the unknown.

Mari returned and with her came a man in a white jacket. He smiled and his face seemed to take on a prescribed look. "Time for your ritual examinations, majesty."

Ana sat on the bed. The doctor looked into her eyes, ears, and mouth. Then he listened to her heart and breathing with a funny instrument called a stethoscope. He checked her reflexes and pricked her finger for a blood sample. After a few other exercises and tests, which Ana placidly endured, the doctor left the room, motioning for Mari to follow him.

"The maid will be in shortly to dress you," Mari said, as she followed the doctor out, "then we'll eat breakfast. And afterwards you can play outside, like a good little girl."

Ana sat patiently on her bed until the door closed, then she sprang up and pressed her ear to the door.

"...is she doing?" she heard Mari's voice.

"Slowly deteriorating. It won't be long before her heart can no longer take the stress," came the doctor's reply. The was a long silence.

"How long?" Ana was surprised to recognize the voice of General Brooks, the commander of the Garrison. What did he have to do with her?

"I'm not sure." The doctor's voice, "Perhaps a few months." Ana heard someone pacing the floor.

"The poor dear, she thinks she's getting better. She's been so cheery lately..." Mari let the sentence die out, unwilling or unable to finish it.

"The Empress will not be happy to learn her youngest is getting worse. I think Her Majesty actually believed that if she sent her away from the City she would heal," General Brooks sounded resigned, "and she's going to die anyway."

Ana jerked back from the door. She'd known the truth for a long time, but hearing someone else say it was almost too much. _She's going to die anyway_. Ana shivered. It was bad enough knowing your death was certain, but it was worse when you didn't know what was killing you.

Ever since her tenth year she'd been getting sick. Not a normal sickness, like a cold or the flu, but a strange sickness that gave her horrible headaches. At first, no one realized anything was wrong. They thought the headaches were normal. But slowly Ana became sicker and sicker; she started vomiting and fainting when the headaches occurred. Now there were seizures to worry about as well.

Doctors had examined her from head to toe and found nothing wrong. According to them, she should be perfectly healthy. Except, of course, that she was dying. So she'd been passed, from doctor to doctor. Each with their own idea of a cure and each without the right one.

And as Ana was deemed incurable by doctor after doctor, she began to notice things. Things that everyone else overlooked.

Whenever she got one of her headaches strange things happened. Storms would blow up from nowhere, only to disappear in a second; docile animals would turn mean and radios would stop working. Once she'd fainted on a train and it simply stopped, dead. Of course, those things could have been just simple coincidence, but Ana could never help thinking that the headaches meant something more.

There came a knock on the door. Ana looked up. "Come," she said loudly. A manservant entered,. "Post for you ma'am."

Ana flew up. The servant quirked an eyebrow at her, but she didn't care. She snatched the letter and sank unto the bed. The servant closed the door, muttering under his breath. Ana thought she caught the word _royalty_.

She looked down at the letter. The seal was her sister Marghi's, a golden hawk with a rose in its talons. Marghi had never written a letter for pleasure in her life. Ana pinched herself, it hurt, and the letter was still there.

She opened it quickly; afraid it would disappear.

_Ana Dearest,_

_I know what you're thinking now. I never, ever, write letters. But, I've found that I miss you so much that I simply must write to you, though I may not be the best correspondent. _

_The City is such an empty place with out you, dearest. There is no one to make sly comments on my dress selection. No one to tell me the truth about my appearance (and I cannot tell anyone the truth about theirs). Even Mother is a bit cross, without her baby._

_I sincerely hope that the West is as wonderful as you hoped it would be. I assure you, you have not missed much while you were gone. Only a few balls and those would not have interested you anyway. _

_The weather is fair, but Mother says it will not stay so. The City has been completely decorated for the Festival of Souls. It is so pretty to see all the buildings decorated with silver, especially when the sun shines on it in the morning or evening. My theology tutor says the Festival of Souls is a silly pagan tradition, but I'm glad Mother still upholds it, because I think it brings comfort to the common folk. _

_I have not found a man suitable to by my first husband yet. My latest suitor turned out to be a bore and a chauvinist. I am almost thirty and I still have not married. Mother despairs of ever having grandchildren. _

_I am afraid, dear sister, that I have run out of things to write. I told you at the beginning that I am not a very good correspondent and it is true (as you know). You will simply have to write and show me how it is supposed to be done._

_Love, your affectionate sister,_

_Marghareta de'Mar_

_PS: Darius returned last week and was exceedingly vexed with Mother for sending you away. They had a spectacular fight about it (in which Darius threatened to go and fetch you back himself) but Mother finally got her way in the end, as she always does. I've enclosed Darius's letter as well._

Ana put her sister's letter aside with a small smile and opened the one from her brother.

_Little sister,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I was very disappointed to return home (for the first time in two years) and find you had gone. I miss you even more acutely now that I am here with Mother and Marghi, but not you. Marghi does her best to amuse me, but she is distant and formal. She has become too much of a courtier. I, of course, am still only tolerated in Court because of my brilliant military skills, but I do my best to smile and bow and veil my words. It is so much easier in the field when I can simply say what I mean directly instead of dancing around endlessly._

_We need you here to bring out the good in us again. You could always dispel the formality between us as if it wasn't even there._

_Mother has made the gravest of mistakes in sending you away. You should be here in the City with your family, and not gallivanting around the globe. At least, however, I have been to Isthma, and I deem it a safe haven for you. The locals are a queer bunch, but they tell absolutely amazing stories (if you can convince them to talk). If you can escape your guards you should also explore the marketplace. Some of those Tortallian barbarians make absolutely beautiful bows and swords that would make a collector pawn his own mother. They never sell them, however._

_Speaking of mothers, I want you to know that I tried very hard to convince Mother that you must be sent home, but she has become quite stubborn on the topic. I am currently not on speaking terms with her, but that is by-the-by because she's sending me off to quell a rebellion on our Northern front anyway. I'm hoping that on the way back I can make a quick detour to Isthma. It has been too long since I've seen your queer little face._

_On my journeys I've picked up a few trinkets here and there that I wanted you to have, but they are too bulky for a letter. And I wanted you to know that in Haarah, a country that lies to the south of our southeastern frontier, only women are allowed to carry weapons—as men are considered too clumsy to be able to learn the subtle art of fighting. The weapons they use are quite primitive (their culture hadn't discovered gunpowder before we showed up) but they are remarkably well-versed in the use of them. I swear, some of those women were so fast, they could have dodged bullets! They were also extremely good at the bow and arrow, but not proficient enough, I think, to have beaten you. You still have the most amazing eye I've ever seen._

_Perhaps someday soon I will kidnap you from the place where Mother has put you for safe-keeping and bring you to Haarah, where you'll learn to do everything they never let you in the City. Until then stay well, and stay out of trouble. Don't stray from the garrison or the town of Isthma; there are rumors of strange beasts along the Tortallian border._

_Love,_

_Darius._

Ana felt a wave of homesickness wash over her as she finished her brother's letter. _If I were home right now, I would tell Darius how happy I am to see him at least a thousand times, then embrace him a thousand times and never let go_. Ana felt her eyes fill with tears, but she had trained herself not to cry, even if she was alone.

_No,_ she thought, _If I were home now Darius would tease me about how I'm very short for a witch, and plain at that. _The thought helped. The tears subsided, but Ana was left with a sad sort of emptiness in her chest.

There was a sharp knock, and Mari returned with another maid. Together they dressed Ana, winding her into the elaborate clothes of a Thaylian courtier. Ana had always hated the uncomfortable, restrictive mode of dress. The close skirt allowed only the tiniest of steps and the many layers took several minutes to get on or off.

Most of the general citizens, not of royal blood, wore much more comfortable clothes, better suited to work and movement. Whenever possible, Ana always elected to wear the simpler dresses of the common folk.

Finally, the last tie was placed. Ana was glad, her stomach had been grumbling rather loudly for the past quarter hour.

When they arrived to breakfast the General and his officers all rose and bowed respectfully. Ana was seated uncomfortably at the head of the table. In the City, she'd usually taken her meals alone or perhaps in the company of Marghi. Here General Brooks insisted that she have the place of honor and that she join him and his officers for every meal. He claimed her presence would be a delight for his officers, who had been out of the Court for many months and sorely missed the company. Ana didn't have the heart to tell him that she was a terrible example of courtly manners.

The men were talking about the rumors of a Tortallian invasion. It seemed that a request for reinforcements had been denied by the Empress.

"...She wanted proof before she sent out troops, not just native rumors," said Jol Tippens, a grizzled old veteran captain, and her particular friend. Across the table he winked at her.

"Yes, and that's a very good point." It may have been a good point, but the General didn't seem happy about it. "What we need is solid evidence. A spy, or an escaped prisoner. Someone with the inside story."

A silence fell; all that could be heard was the scrape of forks and knives. Ana ate slowly, her mind distracted by the thought that her "safe-haven" might not be very safe much longer. Perhaps her mother would send her elsewhere. Hopefully a place where she could sleep at night.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the front entry. Everyone looked up as a windblown messenger flew into the dining hall. "Urgent message for the General," he said, handing over the slip of paper.

Ana held her breath as General Brooks read the note. His face became paler almost instantly. He looked up at the silent table. "It seems the patrol that went missing yesterday has been found." The officers threw dark glances at each other. One asked, "Where were they found, general?"

General Brooks looked very grim. "Apparently they were found on the other side of the Drell. According to the report, they were all killed very violently. Their bodies were completely torn apart, body parts strewn everywhere—blood and viscera covering all the surroundings."

Every officer's attention was fully focused on the General. Mari, next to Ana at the table, suddenly clutched a napkin to her mouth and rushed out, sick at the description of such violence happening to men well-known. Ana felt a little queasy herself, but more so at the thought of what kind of person or creature could have wreaked such havoc on a patrol of ten well-trained men.

"The interesting part," General Brooks continued, "is that none of their match-locks were fired. Not a single one. Just like the other attacks."

The officers all began to talk at once, discussing the implications. Servants rushed to and fro, giving and receiving messages and orders.

Suddenly Ana found herself surrounded by people but quite alone. No one was paying her any attention, her presence completely forgotten by the arrival of grim and grisly news. Carefully, so as to not draw attention to herself, Ana slipped a sharp knife under the table. She reached down, moving slowly, and cut a slit into the last two feet of her dress. Her legs came free instantly. Not yet daring to hope, she rose, walking resolutely out of the breakfast room into a hall leading to the kitchens. The corridor was filled with servants rushing everywhere.

Ana, deciding that staying unseen was impossible, threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She strode purposefully and let the servants think what they would. Luck was with her; no one stopped or questioned her. Mere minutes from being in the breakfast room, Ana was outside, without any guards or watchful servants to hinder her explorations.

She wasn't completely safe yet, however. She'd escaped the garrison, but there were still guards who patrolled the grounds. There was also only one gate that led to Isthma. She would have to find a way to get past it if she were to truly be free.

Ana looked around, searching for a secluded place where she could change her appearance. She spotted some bushes nearby and darted over to them, hiding herself among the foliage before someone saw her.

The first thing to go was the dress. She had no idea how to take off the many layers, so she simply cut them off, using the little knife she'd pilfered. She did cut methodically, however, trying to shape the dress so it would look like a servant's.

It wasn't working. No matter how she cut, the dress still looked too fancy to be servant wear. And she was also running out of fabric. Soon there wouldn't be any dress left to wear.

Ana tied a few loose ends together. It would have to do. She was basically just wearing a shift, made out of an opaque cotton, with part of the former dress (it had been wound in periwinkle and rose stripes) tied around her waist in large chunks. She used only the blue fabric and discarded all of the extra ribbons and lace. She also used a piece of fabric to cover her bright, distinctive hair. There was nothing she could do to change her eyes—she was definitely the only person in Thaylia with violet eyes—but if she kept her head down perhaps no one would notice.

She left her hiding place, staying close to the bushes so she could hide again if she had to. Her heart beat quickly in her chest, excitement pounded through her veins. She needed to escape quickly, before she was missed.

Ana turned a corner, intent on heading to the stables, and providence provided her with an escape. There, in front of her, was a messenger's horse, hastily tied to a nearby tree. The horse was completely alone, saddled, and, even better, the messenger's coat and saddle-bags were leaning against the tree. Quickly, praying the messenger wouldn't return, Ana dug through the saddle bags, pulling out a pair of pants and a long cap. She put the pants on underneath her make-shift dress, stuffed her hair under the hat, and threw the coat over her shoulders. It was overly large, but that was good, because there was room for her to tuck up her skirts underneath it.

Quickly she untied the horse, taking the time to let the mare smell her and feel her touch. She mounted, just as Darius had taught her, and steered the bay towards the gates, gathering speed as she approached.

No one hailed her as she rode straight through the open gates into freedom.

~ ~:~ ~

**Dom-loves-Kel: **I hope this chapter clears up most of your confusion. Ana is an original character, born in the Empire City, which is located on a different continent than Tortall. The Thaylian Empire has provinces, however, on several other continents, including the one where Tortall lies. They currently occupy the territory where Tyra, Tusaine, and Maren formerly were. Carthak is also under their jurisdiction, though they still retain some autonomy. As for Galla, it is now a wild land, though the Scanrans have advanced their borders some since the time of Jonathon. Yes, Will is a Conte…and as to Ana's lineage, well, that's a story for another chapter.


	5. Rumors

A Note From Nessa'fur:

I just realized I neglected to put a disclaimer on the previous chapters, so this one will have to do for the whole story: Let it be known that Tortall and all its affiliates are the property of the great Tamora Pierce. Please do not sue me—I'm a starving artist as it is.

Now move it along to…

Chapter Four: Rumors

The Thaylian fort was an ugly hulk of a building situated on the outskirts of what was once a tiny farming village and which was now the size of a small city. The walls were unnecessarily thick, as if the makers had been uncertain of their adversaries' strength and so had vastly over-compensated. Every Tortallian over the age of five knew it didn't matter how thick your walls were if the enemy could walk right through them. The best defense was a magic shield, something conspicuously lacking from the other-wise well-fortified garrison.

Will stood outside the gates, partially concealed by a convenient bush. He gathered his thoughts and his magic, preparing himself to become unseen. True invisibility was impossible to achieve with the Gift, but it was possible to cast a certain spell around oneself that caused everyone who saw you to forget your presence. It required both immense concentration and immense confidence—and not a small amount of magic—but it was possible.

The mission had been unfruitful thus far. There were too many rumors, too many stories. Sorting fact from fiction was impossible. So he'd been forced to come here, to the garrison itself, and hope that he could find evidence of the truth.

Will took a deep breath, closing his eyes in concentration. He reached deep within himself, drawing out his sapphire gift. He took the thread of magic and wove it around himself, in an intricate web. Finally he felt confident that he could pass undetected.

He stepped out from behind the bush. He was standing directly in the sight line of both of the gate's guards, yet neither glanced his way.

Will walked through the gates, to discover what he could.

~:~

The headache came without warning.

It struck her as she turned, laughing, from the banana vendor. Instantly her world was narrowed into a sharp tunnel of pain. She felt herself fall and hit the ground, but any other sensation than pain was too distant to register. Around her it seemed as if the world had entered into chaos. Colors and light swirled around her in a vortex. Somehow she stumbled to her feet and managed a mumbled reply to someone's concerned question. She was walking, but her head hurt too terribly to move. It seemed that a thousand armies were battering a thousand rams into her head, and worse. She had never been this sick before, and, distantly, she knew that she was going to die.

From somewhere far away she saw a dim light. As it came closer she realized the light shone violet. Closer, and closer it came, until it was shining right in front of her. Her headache doubled, if that was possible. Her stomach revolted, staining the dust she lay in. Suddenly out of the brightness came a face. A face so much like her own that they could have been sisters. _Or twins_, she thought dimly. The face smiled crookedly at her. "It is not your time, child." The voice rang through her ears, and slowly Ana felt herself sink into darkness. _At least my headache is gone, _she thought, and knew no more.

~:~

_This is too easy, _Will thought, as he stood in the doorway leading to the kitchens and eavesdropped on the Garrison's leaders.

"DAMN THAT GIRL!" One man shouted, pounding his fist on the table. He was a large man, with a potbelly that strained the buttons on his crisp uniform, a red face and an impressive mustache. He was obviously of high rank; everyone else deferred to him and he had more of those ridiculous ribbons and decorations on his uniform than anyone else.

Nearby, an elderly woman with a worried face wrung her hands. "General, we have to find her! The Empress will have all our heads if anything happens to her."

The General shook his head. "Mari, this _cannot_ go on any longer. I have enough trouble on my plate without having to babysit a sick little girl. I've had three men mysteriously attacked in the past month and now an entire patrol. I've got rumors of a strange horde gathering in the North and rumors of a Tortallian invasion. I've got an Empress who won't send reinforcements for a 'mere tribal matter', but will send us her dying daughter as Foreign Liaison. I can't be forever emptying the garrison to fetch your runaway invalid!"

_Wait a minute…they think that _we_ are going to invade _them_?_ There was something distinctly wrong about this situation. Will backed away from the doorway, disturbed by what he had just overheard. Servants bustled by him, moving to step around him without even glancing in his direction.

He trotted back the way he'd come, trying to find his way out of the maze that was the Thaylian garrison. His thoughts whirled as he considered the implications. _Not even the garrison's general knows what rumors are true or false, but one thing is clear: the Thaylians had no plans to attack us. _The more he thought about it, the more alarmed he became. He had to find Rob. They were needed in Tortall, not wandering about the Thaylian outpost like chickens with their heads cut off.

And then he felt it, like someone playing a familiar song on an unfamiliar instrument.

He turned to seek the source…and came face to face with Rob.

"Do you feel it?" Will whispered.

"Yes." Rob's quiet voice was strained. "Someone very powerful is openly using their Gift right now."

Will nodded. "Keep your eyes open."

They left the garrison and entered the streets of Isthma. With every step he took Will could feel the sense of power growing stronger and stronger.

Finally they entered a small side alley. Will stopped so abruptly that Rob ran into him.

The alley was filled with purple light, a glimmer that seemed to bounce off both walls and float into the sky. And at the end of the alley, curled into the fetal position, was a girl.

The girl from his dream.

Rob did not waste a second. He dashed over to where the girl lay and knelt at her feet. Will followed slowly, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

"She's so far gone," Will whispered, staring, horrified, at the violet Gift which poured out of her. "Can you pull her out of it, Rob?"

"Yes." Rob said, but Will did not feel the corresponding tingle of magic.

"What are you waiting for?" Will ground out.

"She is Thaylian, Milord." Rob said quietly.

Will tore his gaze away from the girl and looked at his chief mage in surprise. Rob's face was stony, his brow furrowed. "She is dying!" Will exclaimed.

"Perhaps it would be better…"

Will couldn't believe his ears. "She is still human isn't she?" Rob said nothing, turning his head to stare off into the west—where the hills of Tortall lay, hidden by the surrounding buildings of the Thaylian outpost.

The girl from his dream started to writhe and flop, like a fish flapping on the ground. "She's going into convulsions! Pull her out of it, Rob!" Will yelled.

He watched as Rob's apple green Gift poured into her. Her hair, a fiery red, spilled around her like a pool of blood as she hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes were squeezed shut in a grimace of pain, but he knew that beneath the lids were eyes that burned with violet fire.

Rob looked up. "She almost used up her lifesource. Another minute and she'd have been dead." He paused. "I didn't know Thaylians had the Gift." There was a faint note of distaste in Rob's words.

The sentence hung in the air. Will could do nothing but stare at her crumpled form. After a moment, his clouded mind finally registered Rob's words and churned out a reply."I don't think they do." He said quietly. Then louder, "Why was she dying?"

"Her Gift is untrained. She looks pretty old, I can't believe she's lived this long with an untrained Gift. Most people would die just after puberty."

Both looked up at the sound of running feet coming near. "We should go, Rob."

Rob nodded, putting his hand on Will's arm. There was a flash of light, and the pair disappeared.

~ ~:~ ~

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Review!


	6. Plans

Chapter Five: Plans

The sound was coming from a very long way away. It seemed to take a long time to reach her ears, as if the sound waves were being funneled through a long and twisted tube. It was a sound she had heard before, a sound that should be familiar. Yet she could not place the strangely muffled whoosh and gasp and the low animal whine that accompanied it.

_Crying,_ Ana realized suddenly. _Someone_ _is crying. Well, sobbing really._

There was also another sound, softer and quieter than the muted sobs. Two people, talking in hushed tones, like they were in church, or at someone's deathbed.

_Does this mean I'm dead?_ Ana thought, and then, _No, I can't be dead, I'm too sore to be dead._

Ana strained her ears to try and hear what the people were saying. It sounded like two men, General Brooks and Doctor Hesta? If she concentrated, she could just make out their words over the crying.

"…much longer now," Doctor Hesta was saying, "Honestly I'm surprised she lasted the night."

"Dammit," General Brooks muttered, "there is simply too much to deal with right now. I've got patrols getting slaughtered left and right, a barrack full of uneasy men, and rumors of war flying all over the place. Last night a patrol found a villager half-eaten by _something_, but we don't know what because it left no tracks or signs. Not even a hair on a carcass. And to top it all off I've got the Empress's brat dying in the guest wing!"

"The Empress will not be happy when her daughter dies, she may deny your other requests for additional troops and supplies…"

"Mari, please don't cry," Ana said in a loud, clear voice, "I'm not dead yet." The sobbing and murmuring stopped with an abruptness that was uncanny.

"Ana?" Mari gasped, "Are you awake?"

"No, I'm talking in my sleep," Ana retorted caustically. With a great effort, she opened her eyes, but quickly shut them again, moaning at the pain of the sudden brightness. Ana stretched her arms and groaned again as her stiff muscles screamed in protest. "Mari, what happened?" she asked, "Why do I feel like I've been trampled by a horse?"

"Doctor! General! She's awake!" Mari cried, completely unnecessarily. "You've been through a trial you have, fainting in the street like that. A dozen people saw you collapse. You've been asleep for two days, we were beginning to think…" She frowned suddenly, her face darkening like a looming thundercloud. "It would never have happened if you hadn't run away."

Ana sat up, squinting her eyes at the bright mid-day light, and put her hand on Mari's tear-stained cheek. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Mari pulled away from her touch. Her grumbling reply—something about head-strong royalty—was lost as she turned away.

"So you're finally awake," the General boomed at the same time the Doctor asked, "How are you feeling?"

Ana donned her most charming smile. "Hungry," she said, "I feel like I haven't eaten in a week."

"We can fix that," said Mari. She scurried out, saying, "I'll fetch you something right now."

Doctor Hesta checked a few of the machines that were hooked up to her and nodded in a satisfied way. "Your vitals look very good. You probably just need some food and rest and you'll be right as rain."

Everyone there knew it was a lie, but nobody said anything.

There was an awkward silence for several moments, then Mari suddenly burst into the room again, laden with a tray overflowing with food. She hummed as she brought it over and laid it on Ana's lap.

"Well, we'll leave you to your meal," said General Brooks, bowing. "It is good to see you awake again." He turned to go.

"General," Ana said, "Today, I will write to my mother and ask her to send you reinforcements. I will also write my brother, who will do what he can to help you."

The General blushed from the top of his starched collar to his forehead. "Thank you, my lady," he said gruffly, smoothly his mustache. "I had forgotten that you are an Empress's daughter, I will not forget it again."

~:~

Lucas was roused by his King shaking him. "Wake up. I need you." Lucas sat up rubbing his sleep filled eyes; a question on his tongue, but Will was already gone. "Nice to see you too," he said to the empty air, "When did you get back? Just now, great! Let's have a cup of tea and chat." Slowly he pulled on a pair of breeches and stumbled out of his tent. He did not like waking up at absurd hours because of his insane ruler.

When he reached the King's tent he found four other drowsy men in various states of unclothe. Young Johona had not even bothered with breeches, he wore only his nightshirt. Rob was fully dressed, but his head was drooping with exhaustion from the long ride back to camp.

Will, of course, was both fully dressed and fully awake, unlike his commanders. "Rob and I learned much in the Thaylian city," Will said. He started pacing, and five sleepy pairs of eyes followed him. "The good news is that Thaylia was _not _planning on attacking us anytime soon. The bad news is that they are under the impression that we will soon be attacking _them_. These _rumors_, I believe, are too convenient. I think that they were spread by Li Dubyn."

At the sound of the demon-General's name everyone sat up a little straighter.

"What would be the purpose of such a deception?" asked Johona.

It was Marcus, his spymaster, who answered. "To spread fear and uncertainty. And maybe, if he was lucky, we would do his work for him and kill each other off."

Will nodded, "Well said, Marc." He turned back to his commanders. "I want the Own on the march by this afternoon. Lucas, I want you to send messengers to all the outlying villages. We're mustering for war." All five looked up at him. No one was brave enough to ask whom they were fighting. Will stopped, he looked at Rob. "And one more thing. We're taking the girl with the Gift with us."

~ ~:~ ~


	7. Kidnap!

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Yay, it finally starts to get interesting! I loved re-writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it. Now the real story begins….

Chapter Six: Kidnap!

Will stole silently up to the fort's outer walls. He hated having to sneak into this place like a common thief, but he had no choice. His Gift was sorely depleted from the little disappearing act he and Rob had pulled the other day. He could still feel its comforting presence at the edges of his mind, but he would need more time than he had had to recover it enough to cast anything more than the simplest of spells.

Somewhere behind him a horse snorted. _Can't Lucas keep the horses quiet?_ He thought, with a flash of irritation. Normally such a small thing would not have bothered him, but—all things considered—he felt his bad temper was not unwarranted. Who could expect the King of Tortall to be cheerful when a war that threatened the very survival of this people loomed in the distance like a gathering storm? _And to top it all off, _he grumbled to himself, _I've got ominous nightmares banging around in my head every time I close my eyes to sleep._

Will placed his hands on the wall; there were plenty of finger holds. With the ease of dexterity he slipped over the wall, and into the sleeping fort.

There were more rooms than he would have thought, but he was lucky. He remembered the general layout of the place from his last visit and was able to find the right room after his twelfth try. The girl from his nightmare lay in a chair next to the window. Her face looked thin and sickly in the moonlight, with deep shadows beneath her eyes. For a moment he paused. He was filled with..._what? Sympathy? Why should I feel sympathy for a girl who would probably die without our help?_

But nonetheless he picked her up more gently than he might have, making sure she would sleep with his blue gift. He studied her for a moment, and once again felt the familiarity of her features. But he ignored it; he would understand when the Gods willed it.

Like a ghost through the darkness the thief and his prize slipped through the silent house, and as they rode off a clock struck two o'clock.

~:~

Ana was having bizarre dreams. It seemed for a while that she was riding a horse. But not military style, as she usually did. She was bumping along in the arms of some unknown being, leaning against their shoulder. When she tried to lift her head to see who or what they were, she slipped back into darkness.

She next awoke to the sound of quiet laughter. She lay, curled on the ground, with an odd jacket covering her. It was soft and she did not want to move. But now that she was awake she felt no desire to sleep again.

The sun was barely above the horizon and as she watched it sunk below, lighting the sandy dunes with its final rays. After a moment stars began to peek out; twinkling merrily in the navy sky. In front of her she saw the soft glow of a fire; two figures huddled around it, conversing softly. The voices rose and fell in a deep, masculine murmur, but their words were too quiet to discern.

Ana lay completely still, the reality of her situation slowly sinking in. Sleep still lingered in the corners of her brain and she had a weird feeling that it hadn't been natural. Their was a heavy taste on her tongue, but her senses were surprisingly sharp; she could feel a slight breeze teasing her hair into tangles and the grainy sand beneath her nightgown; smell the sweet, somewhat horsey smell that clung to the jacket.

Her heart pounded in her chest, its beat throbbing in her ears.

In her memory, she heard Darius's voice as he instructed her and Marghi on the basics of self-defense. The lessons had been an indulgence to their brother's paranoid vein; neither she nor Marghi had ever imagined that anyone would be stupid enough to harm one of the Empress's own children. Besides, they were well protected—Darius saw to that. Nevertheless, Darius had insisted on teaching them, and, for once, he and Mother had been of one mind.

"_If you are ever kidnapped," one of those lessons began, "the worst thing you can do is panic. Panic will only hinder you; you must stay calm and think rationally. You must assume that your captors know who you are. You are both easily recognizable. Remember that. You are valuable to them…it is your danger, but also your protection. " _

"_But Darius," Marghi said, a haughty smile hovering around her lips. Marghi was openly dismissive of the lessons, considering them a waste of her time. She understood the reasons behind the lessons, but her faith in the Empire was unwavering. "What reason would someone have to kidnap us? Mother is a beloved ruler, well liked by all her people…"_

"_You are not naïve enough to really believe that, Marghi," Darius replied, gravely. "True, the Empire casts a great light, but the brightest lights throw the darkest shadows. The Empire has many enemies. There are many who would gladly hurt you to advance their own agendas. Greed, revenge, political leverage, all of these are ample reasons to take you. The ransom price alone is a great temptation."_

"_The way you speak, I can't believe one of us hasn't been snatched from our beds already!" Marghi broke in playfully, winking at Ana. _

_Darius glowered at Marghi, his voice sharp with anger and impatience. "Damn it, Marghi, this is serious! Don't you understand that the only reason you _haven't_ been snatched from your bed is because of how powerful Mother is? Anyone who seeks to harm you will incite the wrath of Mother—and through her, all the might of the Empire. Any potential kidnappers will be aware of this—perhaps more so than you are. They will know the repercussions they risk and will do whatever is necessary to keep those repercussions at bay. They will hurt you—kill you—without pause if they believe they must. You must convince them that it is to their advantage to keep you alive and unharmed."_

In her mind, Ana could clearly see Darius's face as he spoke the words. His lips were tight, angry, but his eyes were worried as he looked down at his two sisters. Ana had paid attention for Darius's sake, never really considering herself in danger from any ransom eager villains or scheming politicians. Marghi was the obvious target. As the eldest and the Empress-to-be she was much more valuable and far more likely to be the victim of a grudge against the Empire.

"_Follow any instructions they give you quickly and meekly; give them no incentives to hurt you. Observe your captors as closely as you can. You may be tied up, or gagged or blindfolded, but take advantage of every opportunity to note your surroundings. Scents, sounds, bits of conversation—all of these details will help you decipher the reasons for your abduction. It is important to know why you were taken, so that way you can deal with your captors in a manner that will best assure your safe release. Take your cues from how they treat you. Assure them that they will get whatever it is they ask for, but only if you are returned unharmed. "_

Lying stiffly on the soft sand with the unfamiliar stars of Shani shining down on her, Ana felt a wave of gratitude toward her over-protective elder brother. The memory of those carefree lessons wrapped around her like a life-line, bolstering her courage. She was the daughter of an Empress; it was time she started acting like one.

Carefully, so as to not draw attention to herself, Ana turned her head so that she could more closely observe her surroundings. The stars illuminated a desolate landscape. In front of her, sandy dunes stretched off into the horizon, broken only by the occasional outcrop of boulders. In the distance, she could see the beginnings of the low hills which marked the gateway into the Tortallian wilds. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had gazed at those same hills through her bedroom window at the fort.

They had taken her across the River Drell, into the Tortallian desert.

Ana tore her eyes from the desert scene and focused on her captors. They sat with their backs to her, about twenty feet away, two dark silhouettes in the glow of the fire. Neither had even glanced at her since she'd woken. Her initial panic and fear was replaced by a flash of irritation which bubbled up inside her. Were they so confident in their capture of her that they felt no need to even check on her? She had no restraints other than the jacket that was draped over her, no shackles or blindfold.

Darius's voice rang in her head.

"_Watch carefully for opportunities to get away, but do not attempt an escape unless you are reasonably certain that you will succeed. It is important to seem resigned to your captivity, but once you make your move that illusion will be shattered. You will probably have only one shot at escaping, so make it count."_

Beyond the fire were two larger shadows, which had been drifting in and out of her peripheral vision since she'd first opened her eyes. From her new vantage point, she could see the two horses that were picketed just beyond the ring of firelight.

But to get to the horses she would have to pass the men.

Steeling herself, she rose slowly to her feet. Her body quivered with adrenaline, poised to fight or flee if necessary. She wrapped the jacket more firmly around her and strode over to the firelight. The two men looked up as she approached, their faces lit by the firelight. They were dressed like Tortallians, which was hardly surprising considering where she found herself.

The man on the left glanced at her casually, then looked away as if bored. She felt her courage shrink and die as she took him in. He was massively built, tall and broad, yet he held himself with easy grace. _Oh dear, _Ana thought, gazing at the size of his muscles, _No wonder they didn't feel a guard was necessary. _

The bigger one was wearing a coat similar to the one wrapped around her, the other wore only pants and a loose shirt rolled up to his elbows. Sitting next to the giant man, he looked quite small and slim, but when he stood, offering her a cup, she saw that he was much taller than she was. Ana looked up into his face, but his features were in shadow so she dropped her gaze to the proffered cup. The hand that held it out was large and tanned brown, the fingers relaxed.

She took the cup, peering doubtfully at the honey-colored liquid. "What is it?" she asked, wondering if these men spoke Thaylian.

The man who had given it to her answered, "We call it tea," he hesitated. "deni to you." His accent was curious. The words were clear, but they sounded thick, almost musical.

"Will it put me to sleep?" Ana tried to keep the fear from her voice; she didn't know if she succeeded.

"No. But it will soothe your aches." It wasn't until he said it that Ana realized that she _did_ ache. Her entire body was stiff from the ungainly ride. She took a small sip of the liquid. It tasted good, and since she was still alive, and human, it must not have been poison or some strange Tortallian potion. Greedily she downed the rest of the _tea_, and when it was gone she did feel better. Good enough to sit next to the men, and warm herself. _After all, _Ana thought, as she arranged her hands in her lap, _even if I could manage to steal one of the horses, I would not make it far before they caught me. _

"Are you cold?" the man who had offered her the _tea _held out a blanket. She shook her head. "This," she pointed to the jacket, "is enough for me."

He nodded. Ana was burning to ask him a hundred questions, but kept them to herself. It would not do to anger someone whose motives she did not know. But after a moment she could not keep quiet any longer. _Besides, what harm would one question do?_ "Please, sirs. I do not know who you are."

The man without the coat looked at her. In the flickering firelight, his dark features reminded her of a painting of Satan that she had once seen in the City Museum of Art. She shivered once, as she looked into his steady gaze, and then dropped her eyes to the dancing flames of the fire. The other simply ignored her. The dark haired man waved his hand at the coated one. "His name is Lucas of Silverlee." (Lucas nodded shortly in acknowledgement of his name, then went back to staring at the fire.) "My name is Will. William of Conte."

Ana was startled into looking at him again. William of Conte was the Tortallian King!

"Now that you know who I am," He said, slowly, in his strangely accented Thaylian, "May I ask your name?"

She stared at him—_the King of Tortall_—uncertain how to respond. Her mind raced as she wondered at the power a name had to change her perception of the situation. Then the meaning of his words truly registered. _Does this mean he doesn't know who _I_ am? Is it a trick? Would he recognize my name? _Throwing all caution to hell, Ana said, "I am Ana De'Mar."

If the King of Tortall recognized her name he gave no indication of it, his face was devoid of any identifiable emotion. "We will ride again when the moon rises, Ana De'Mar," he said mildly. "Save your energy for the ride ahead, for the sleep you have had makes some people very tired."

_Was I drugged then? _Ana wondered, staring at the fire. She didn't feel groggy or tired, but she supposed that was only a small comfort when she _was_ sore and—worse—had absolutely no idea why she was here or what was to be her future. She said, "I can ride a little. Might I please sit facing-forward?"

William of Conte's lips curved up briefly in a smile, as he inclined his head. It was another small comfort to know that he, at least, could smile. She wasn't sure she could have mustered a smile if their places had been traded at that moment.

~ ~:~ ~


	8. A Foiled Escape

Chapter Seven: A Foiled Escape

They rode all that night and all the next day, stopping only twice, both times to let the horses drink from the long water skins that they carried slung over their withers. By mid-morning, Ana was exhausted from the constant jolting and weary from squinting onto the desert landscape, which stayed very much the same, though the distant hills seemed to creep closer as the day wore on. When they stopped briefly, the King handed her a long scarf to wrap around her face, which shielded her pale skin from the relentless desert sun. He also gave her a small canteen of water to sip from and strips of a hard but flavorful meat to chew as they rode.

They stopped again when the sun finally sank beneath the hills. The King slipped off his horse's back with an ease that Ana envied; it took all her strength to just stay sitting upright. She concentrated on unlocking her hands from where they were twined through the stallion's dark mane, wincing as her fingers tingled and smarted.

The King of Tortall held out a hand to help her down from the saddle and she blushed, shaking her head. _I think I can still manage to dismount by myself, _she thought, with a touch of pride. Summoning her strength, she slipped her left leg over the saddle, using the right stirrup to aid her. It was a long way to the ground, but at last she felt the soft sand beneath her feet. She leaned against the stallion, stroking a hand over his tall shoulder like she would her own mare, back in the City.

Lucas—who had continued to ignore her throughout their ride, much to her chagrin—leaned over a small pile of scrub. Under his sure hands a small flame of fire winked into existence, burning with surprising vigor despite the meager kindling. Will was bent over the saddlebags, from which he produced a small pot and several packages wrapped in white paper, which proved to be a small portion of meat and a few vegetables of an unfamiliar variety. He handed the pot to Lucas, who filled it with water from one of the skins and proceeded to add the meat and vegetables.

The smell of the cooking stew was tantalizing, making Ana's empty stomach gurgle in anticipation. While they waited for the stew to finish, Lucas and Will set about quietly setting up camp, unrolling their strange bedrolls and seeing to the horses. Ana stood awkwardly aside, watching them work. She wanted to help, but was uncertain of how she, as a prisoner, was expected to behave.

"We will sleep here tonight," Will said, as he pulled the saddle from his horse's back. "Tomorrow will be another long day of riding, so rest and relax while you can."

Ana picked up the brush and comb from where they lay on the sand. "May I?" she asked, nodding toward the dark stallion.

A flash of surprise flickered across the King of Tortall's face, then it was gone, replaced by the inscrutable expression she'd become familiar with. "I am sure Darkness would be grateful for the attention," he said, with a small bow.

Ana turned to the black stallion. "Darkness," she murmured, putting a hand out. The stallion lowered its head and blew on her hand, then nipped playfully at her fingertips. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier," she said, stroking his long face, "My name is Ana."

She gave Darkness a thorough grooming, then turned to the fire, where both men were seated, conversing quietly in Tortallian. Lucas ignored her, as usual, but Will stepped forward to take the brushes from her hands, returning them to their proper places in the saddlebags. Then he handed her a small wooden bowl of the stew, which she ate ravenously, not even caring that it was so hot it burned her tongue. When she finished, Will offered her more, which she gratefully accepted. She ate the second helping more slowly, relishing the taste of the flavorful vegetables that mingled with the salted meat.

Her kidnappers continued their quiet conversation as she ate. She listened to the sounds of their dialogue, wishing she knew the meaning of the words. The tone sounded serious, but the language was beautiful, dipping and falling in its strange syllables. She put her empty bowl aside and curled up in the blanket that Will had provided, careful not to lie too close to the fire. The sounds of the Tortallian speech washed over her, lulling her into an exhausted sleep.

~:~

She woke in the middle of the night, not knowing where she was. Her eyes snapped open, taking in the moonlight scene. The foreign landscape around her sent waves of panic coursing through her bloodstream. Where was she? Why wasn't she in her tower room at home?

The fire in front of her had burned itself to embers and on either side of her she could see the shadowy shapes of two men. Her heartbeat slowed in its frantic rhythm as she remembered: she was in Tortall, in the company of its King, who had stolen her from her bedroom in the garrison for God-only-knew what reason.

She lay wide awake, staring at the strange stars that looked down upon the Tortallian waste, and felt a terrible homesickness fall over her. Oh, how she longed to see the faces of her family again! To have Darius take her into his strong arms and Marghi exclaim over her thinness. To have her mother smile at her in that special way, the way that said that She who ruled continents, was proud—proud of her unconventional, sickly daughter.

_I want to go home_, Ana thought. _If I am to die then I want to die at home, surrounded by my family. _She even missed the clamorous noise of the City, missed the dirty, chaotic, gloriously alive monster that was her home.

She rolled unto her side, looking at her two captors. They both slept soundly, Lucas's snores mingling with the softer sounds of Will's steady breathing. Could she do it? Could she escape on Darkness's back without waking them?

There was only one way to know.

As quietly as possible, Ana stood, making her way carefully around the prone forms of the sleeping men. With a slow caution, she crept toward where the saddlebags lay in the sand. She would take all of the waterskins with her—it would be harder for them to follow her without water—and as much of the food as she could sling across Darkness's back. Saddling him without waking either of the men would be the trickiest part, but she was hopeful that they were both so exhausted from the long ride of the previous day that they wouldn't notice.

Ana tip-toed over to where Darkness stood picketed, the saddlebags slung over her back. She lowered them quietly to the ground as she reached up to touch him. "Quietly, now." She whispered, stroking his nose. "Please don't give me away." Darkness turned his head to look at her with one dark eye, but perhaps he understood, for he made no noise as she lifted the saddle unto his back.

She was tightening the girths when the headache struck her with such force that it knocked her to the ground. Lighting lanced through her brain, shattering her thoughts into broken shards which ricocheted through her body like splinters of needle-sharp crystal. And she screamed—screamed as the pain attacked her as it never had before.

~:~

Will was woken from a dreamless sleep by a terrible scream of agony, followed by the terrified bellow of a horse. Instantly he was on his feet, moving instinctually to the source of the sound. For a moment he stared in confusion at the scene before him, then he was moving again, leaping to grab Darkness's reigns before the startled horse trampled Ana, who lay convulsing at his feet. His mind distantly noted that Darkness was saddled, but he was more concerned with the close vicinity of the stallion's prancing hooves to Ana's unprotected body.

Another set of hands snatched the reigns away from him and Will saw Lucas's muscles bulge as he wrestled with the panicking stallion. "I've got him," Lucas muttered, "see to the girl."

Will nodded, grateful for Lucas's intervention, and turned to the fallen Thaylian. He dragged her away from Darkness, then grasped her shoulders firmly and pulled her upright.

"Ana," he said urgently, "Ana, listen to my voice."

His hands on her shoulders glowed with a soft, blue light as he fed his Gift into her, hoping to bolster her with his own power. He cursed himself for not being as good a healer as either Rob or Tohmas; his ignorance could prove fatal for Ana now.

"Ana," he said again, "Ana, look at me."

She moaned softly, her eye-lids fluttering as she struggled to lift her head through the pain. Finally her eyes focused on him, two amethyst orbs which threatened to pull him into their depths and drown him in the horrible pain he saw reflected there.

"Fight it, Ana," he growled, "You must fight it, or you will die."

~:~

She was under siege, attacked by an enemy she could neither see nor smell nor touch; an enemy that was inside her very mind, burning her—killing her—slowly from the inside out. It pressed against the boundaries of her being, seeking out every kink and flaw in her mental armor, filling her with a pain so great she was afraid that she would lose herself to insanity and wander forever down the halls of madness.

Then a voice intruded from outside her world of pain, a voice which compelled her with its frightened concern.

"Ana."

_Ana?_ She thought, _I do not know this Ana. I am lost, nameless. _

"Ana, listen to my voice."

She focused on the sound of the words, her mind grasping at the voice like a life-line that would bring her back to herself.

"Ana. Ana, look at me."

She felt the cool touch of—something—on her shoulders. The pain did not ebb, but it seemed to give way a little. There was now a space around the pain, a space where she could regroup, regain her sense of self.

She looked up into a face full of concern, into blue, endlessly blue eyes which radiated a comforting sympathy.

"Fight it, Ana," the voice said, its words an order. "You must fight it, or you will die."

_I cannot, _she thought, _I do not know how._

"You must look beyond the pain," the voice said, as if in answer to her thoughts. "What else do you feel?"

"Only…pain…" She gasped, as the onslaught redoubled its attack. She could feel her life slipping away, shattering beneath the great pressure of the pain like a tumbler of sela shattering beneath an avalanche.

She felt the grip on her shoulders tighten. "You must put the pain aside. It will not over-power you; I'm holding it at bay. Look inside yourself, what do you feel?"

She moaned, but did not look away from his sapphire eyes. They held her gaze firmly, the crystalline depths holding a power and determination beyond any she could muster in her self. She looked into those eyes and drew strength from their steady gaze, strength enough to think beyond the pain, to search her mind for other sensations.

And she felt it, a tingling fire which seemed to tickle the edges of her consciousness. The pain increased a hundred-fold, seeking to distract her from her discovery, but she looked into Will's eyes and reached for the tingling fire—throwing her self toward the sensation. For a moment, the pain howled to a crescendo, then it seemed to break beneath her mental probe, crumbling into nothingness. In its place came a soft, ticklish warmth which spread throughout her limbs with a soothing—but rather discomfiting—sensation. It reminded her of the pins and needles feeling of blood returning to sleeping limbs. She could feel it washing over her, driving out the last remnants of the pain and healing the hurts it had left behind.

She closed her eyes and reached toward the ticklish warmth again, seeking to gather it all up, but it slipped through her mental fingers, draining away until she could barely feel it pulsing away, once again, at the edges of her awareness.

She opened her eyes and met the sapphire gaze of the King of Tortall once again. He knelt close to her on the sandy ground, his strong hands holding her shoulders, their faces inches apart. For a moment they sat so, each looking at the other, then Will released her shoulders and leaned back on his heels. He ran a hand absently through his hair and his face was closed, distant. Ana wondered what thoughts lay behind his preoccupied visage.

"How did you do that?" She asked, her voice hoarse, like she'd been screaming. She cleared her throat and tried again. "How did you drive the pain away?"

Will shook his head. "You were the only one who could have stopped the pain…I," he paused, looking so distracted that Ana nearly laughed. But she held herself in check; she was, after all, a prisoner, and he was the King of Tortall. _And he just saved my life._ "I just helped show you the way," he finally finished, speaking his words to the desert sand.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking down at her hands. She was confused and uncertain about what exactly had just occurred, and grateful for the help that the desert King had given her. She blushed as she remembered that she'd been trying to escape, but Will said nothing of it and she was grateful for that too. _I will not try to escape again_, she thought, and was surprised to find that the prospect of her unknown future no longer frightened her. _What will be will be. After all, _she thought, with a small smile, _haven't you always longed for an adventure?_

~ ~:~ ~


	9. Arrival

A Note from Nessa'fur:

A reviewer pointed out to me that I've been spelling "Tortallan" as "Tortallian". But since I am too lazy to go back through the entire manuscript and change every "Tortallian" to "Tortallan" I've decided that my atrocious spelling will just have to stay. Perhaps the spelling changed in the 1000 years since SOTL…or perhaps I'm just very lazy, indeed. This brings up another point for me as well. Shameful though it may be, I have to admit that I haven't read SOTL, The Immortals, POTS…or any of the Tortall books in a long time. I'm going from memory (and Wikipedia) at this point…so I'm warning you now: there will probably be other breaks from canon. Please forgive me for what I'm doing to Tamora Pierce's lovely world. And if you are really upset about something you find that just isn't right, feel free to flame me about it.

An on another note, I would like to thank every one who has reviewed so far. Your reviews are what inspired me to take up this story again in the first place and your reviews keep me working on it even when I get stumped. Thank you! Since I didn't update yesterday (I had to work from 5:15am to 4:30pm and I've got a raging cold that caused me to retreat to my warm, cozy bed as soon as I got home) I'll post two chapters this morning. They are both fairly short, and I wanted to get them out of the way anyway.

Now enough from me. Back to the story!

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Eight: Arrival

They woke before sunrise and rode hard the entire day. Neither Lucas nor Will made any comment about the episode the night before, which only served to heighten her shame and embarrassment.

Finally, as the sun sank beneath the hills—which were getting alarmingly close—they caught up with the main encampment. Ana was amazed. When they first rode into the camp it seemed to spring up from nowhere. The color of the lori exactly matched the color of the desert sand.

Ana still rode with the King. Whenever they passed the Tortallians stopped whatever they were doing and bowed. Finally the horse halted in front of a huge lori. It had to be the King's.

The King gracefully dismounted, and strode off. Ana was left to slide down off the horse's withers alone. She stared about her. The camp did not look military at all. The lori sprawled out in every direction, and weaving between them was a various assortment of grela and santu. The santu prowled about in their solitary fashion, just like the santu she was familiar with. The grela, on the other hand, were nothing like the small compact version that Court ladies carried about and fussed over. They were all long legged, with sleek short fur. Their colors ranged from midnight black to a light tan.

One of the grela approached her. Its coat was a sandy brown. Curiously it sniffed her out, then, with obvious approval, began licking her hands. Ana suppressed a giggle. The grelas' rough tongue tickled_._

"Her name is Holly." Ana turned to see the King point at the grela. "She likes it if you rub her tummy."

"Why are there grela here?" Ana asked, rubbing the specified part. Holly seemed to like it, her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted happily.

"For the hunt, and for company. It can get lonely without one's favorite pet with you." The King paused. "I'll show you where you can sleep, if you'd like."

Ana nodded thankfully. "That would be very nice." The King led her to the huge lori. Two guards stood on either side of the entrance. The stood stiffly and saluted when the King went past them. Ana felt suddenly shy. They reminded her of the honor guards that lined the walkway into the Imperial Palace, with their serious faces and stiff posture. She didn't want to walk past them, for fear they would throw her out.

The King came out again. "Come on," he said, gesturing for her to follow. Ana dropped her eyes and stepped past the guards. She felt their eyes on her back and wondered what they thought of the short, red-haired Thaylian who had the audacity to enter the King's lori.

On the inside the lori seemed even bigger. One side held a fair-sized table that was low to the ground. There was a small sea of cushions next to it. The entire lori was filled with elegant rugs and small chests, the contents of which defied her weary imagination. They had obviously been expecting her because one corner had been curtained off. The King pointed at it. "That's where you can sleep. There are cushions and blankets. Would you like a bath?"

For the first time a genuine smile spread across Ana's face. "A bath would be lovely," she laughed.

The King nodded and shouted something in Tortallian. Instantly a servant appeared, seemingly out of thin air. The King spoke a few words to him and the servant hurried out.

A few minutes later the servant returned. Behind him came several others, carrying a large basin big enough to fit several of her. Many more followed with pitchers of water. They poured out the water until the bath was full. "We'll leave you to enjoy your bath," announced the King.

_We? _Ana thought puzzled. _Won't they stay to bathe me?_ Apparently not, because after the last servant had laid down a scrub brush, towel, and robe they left. Ana stared at the bath; a wisp of steam came from it. She'd never bathed herself before. At the fort it had always been Mari who gave her baths, but in the City servants of both genders had washed her.

Ana closed her eyes. Slowly she stripped off all her clothes and sank into the bath. But she'd forgotten to get the scrub brush and the cake of soap beside it. She had to get out, soaking one of those magnificent rugs, to fetch them. Fortunately she remembered to grab the towel and robe also.

Back in the bath Ana took the scrub brush and soap and began scouring herself. It wasn't until she was done that she realized that she should have washed her hair first, so all the soap would get rinsed out of it. Ana sighed. _Who would have thought that I'd ever have to wash myself? I neglected to imagine _this_ would be part of my adventure._

Finally she stepped from the basin. Her hair still had a few soapsuds in it, and there was a part of her back that she hadn't been able to reach with the brush, but she was generally clean.

She toweled off, and slipped on the robe. The dressing gown she had worn for three days lay crumpled on the floor. She had no desire whatsoever to put it on again.

The flap of the lori opened. In came the King, and a servant. Ana was suddenly glad that she had not taken any longer with her bath.

"I brought you clothes and a brush for your hair." The King smiled at her grateful expression. "There is also a mirror with the brush."

Ana took the bundle the servant handed her. She hurried over to the curtain and stepped behind it. Carefully examining the contents of the bundle, she frowned.

She stepped out from behind the curtain and held up the 'clothes'. "I can't wear these," she exclaimed. "These are for men." In her arms lay a pair of pants and a blouse.

The King shrugged, "There are no women in this camp. We didn't have any dresses. You'll have to do with breeches."

"_Breeches?_ What does that mean?" Ana asked.

"You would call them…pants."

"Oh."

Ana turned. Behind the curtain, she stepped into the _breeches_ and pulled the blouse over her head. She still felt naked. Then she saw the underclothes, still in the bundle. After experimenting with the strange garments for several minutes, she was satisfied.

She picked up the mirror and brush. _At least I know what these are, _she thought with a wry grin.

~:~

Lucas watched intently as Will and the Thaylian girl went into Will's tent. The girl was a surprise in many ways. For one, she looked nothing like all the other Thaylians he'd seen. They'd all been dark haired and dark eyed. But this one had hair as red as fire. She wasn't a beauty, but she had a certain exotic sense about her, with the red hair, and those strange purple eyes.

Her appearance wasn't the half of it though. The poor girl had been kidnapped from her bed by two strange men, been dragged to a place where she didn't even know the language, and she accepted it all like candy to a child! He'd been prepared for weeping, been prepared for anger, violence, even self pity, but he hadn't been prepared for the simple resignation she had, and it shook him.

The dog that had been hanging around the girl sauntered up to him. _I like her,_ Holly said.

Lucas laughed. _You like everyone, Holly. _

_Yes, but I like her more than most._ _She's special, I can tell. _The dog grinned at Lucas and bounced off.

Lucas just shook his head. Sometimes his small amount of wildmagic proved useful. _So Holly thinks the girl is special? I'll have to keep an eye on her._

Lucas threaded his way through the sea of tents, until he reached his own. When he ducked through the flap he saw Johona sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"So, what is she like?" The young wildmage asked.

"Whom do you mean?" Lucas lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh come on. _You know_. The 'girl with the Gift'." Lucas looked at him quizzically. "The one you went to get!" Johona burst out.

"Oh. _That_ girl. Well, you'll have to ask Will, I barely saw her at all." Lucas laughed at Johona's frustrated look.

"Don't you remember _anything_? What she looked like? What she sounded like? Did she really speak Thaylian?" Johona's eagerness for anything foreign was very amusing.

"Why don't you go see for yourself, and leave me some peace and quiet?"

"Lucas!" Johona whined. "You know I've never seen a Thaylian before. Can you just tell me a little bit?"

"No. Now go away."

"Please?"

Lucas shook his head. "You might have better luck with Rob. He saw her too remember."

Johona blushed. "I already tried that. He got angry at me, and…"

"And?" Lucas asked, curious.

"Well let's just say I found out that he's recovered all his Gift…"

Lucas just laughed, it felt good to laugh, after the seriousness of their journey.

"Fine then," said Johona, "if you won't tell me anything, I'll find someone who will." He stalked out.

Lucas just laughed.

~ ~:~ ~


	10. Song of the Lioness

Chapter Nine: Song of the Lioness

That night there was a feast. "To celebrate my homecoming," the King told Ana. She didn't say anything, but her face betrayed her. "Don't worry," The King smiled, "You won't have to do anything except eat."

Ana was seated on the left hand of the King at the biggest of the low tables. Across from her sat the man who had accompanied her here, Lucas. Over their various courses she studied him, hiding her scrutiny through the veil of her hair. His dark hair was long, pulled back into a mare's tail, and while he never met her eyes she saw that they were a deep gray, almost black. His face was honest, and instinctively she liked him, despite his reticence.

On her other side sat a man with curly hair of a golden shade which she had never seen before. His face was very tan, and lined with many years, but his eyes were kindly and he smiled at her when she passed him a dish of stewed lentils. She smiled shyly back at him, happy that she had finally succeeded in catching the eye of someone who was not the King.

When the meal was over the King turned to her. "They will sing songs around the fire now," he pointed to the roaring bonfire in the center of the encampment. "You can join us if you'd like." Ana nodded, and he led her to the fire.

There were a few moments of silence and then, abruptly, the singing began. First there was only one voice, a tenor. Then slowly the song built until it seemed every voice was raised in song. Ana wished she could understand the words.

The songs went on, one after another. Ana felt herself nodding off. The King touched her arm. "They will sing a tribute to Alanna the Lioness, the Last Champion, now. After that you can go to sleep."

The singing changed, it became suddenly resonant. Ana couldn't understand the words, but she understood the music. And with every foreign word Ana found herself slipping slowly into another world, where the Lioness had once walked. Tears ran silently down her face as the music swept over her, reverberating through her very soul.

Then, out of the fire came a figure. It was the same woman who had talked to her before, when she'd been on the verge of death. The fire-haired lady smiled at her. "Ana, my dear" the Lioness said, and her voice was the caring caress of an old friend. "A gift for you," she said, "to ease your way." There was a blinding flash of light and then the woman was gone, vanishing as suddenly as she had come.

Ana discovered herself kneeling on the ground, one hand stretched towards the fire. All at once she felt her world collapsing around her and she fell to the ground weeping.

~:~

Will gently picked up the fallen Thaylian. She turned her head and sobbed into his shoulder. Avoiding the stares of the Own and his commanders, he turned and headed back to his tent.

Laying her down in her own little corner, he returned outside. He knew, though, that there would be no more singing tonight.

_The Lioness hasn't been seen since long before my grandfather's time._ The thought was not comforting. _Why did she return now? Tortall has needed her before, but only now does she come to us. Does this have anything to do with the Thaylian girl?_

Will started pacing; there would be no sleep for him tonight. After a few laps around his tent he entered it again. He went to the corner where his Thaylian lay. She was asleep, the sound of her breath barely audible.

_She belongs here_, Will thought. _She was meant to come here, for whatever reasons the Gods might have._ He watched as she rolled over with a small sigh. _I'm going to have to help her. She doesn't know the language, she doesn't know the culture, she doesn't even know why she is here, but she'll learn. She'll have to. _And then suddenly, without warning, he knew why she looked so familiar.

"Goddess," he breathed, "She looks just like the Lioness."

~ ~:~ ~


	11. Language Barrier

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Yay! Fanfiction will let me update again! Two chapters to celebrate, both dedicated to my brand-spanking new niece. Welcome to the world, Caitlyn Gwenyth.

~ ~:~ ~

Chapter Ten: Language Barrier

Will slipped into the small tent that belonged to his chief mage, finding Rob awake and sitting cross-legged on his bedroll, with a book of ruins perched precariously on one knee.

"I know what you would ask of me, Majesty," Rob said quietly, not looking up from his book.

"Good," Will said, "I'm glad you have anticipated me. Ana needs training, and quickly if she is to master her Gift before it kills her."

Rob was silent for a moment, his eyes roving over the interior of his tent. "I have always served you faithfully," he began, "as I served your father before you. If you would have asked my advice on the matter—which you did not—I would have told you to leave the Thaylian girl where she was."

Will frowned down at his chief mage. "She has the Gift, Rob, a rare enough talent among our own people. You would have had me leave her to die rather than teach her to use it?"

Rob shrugged, his face inscrutable. "You take a great risk in teaching her, a Thaylian, to use magic. Thaylians are an untrustworthy and quarrelsome people. You said yourself that the only reason your grandfather defeated them was because they had no knowledge of magic. No, I do not think it wise to instruct one of them in the ways of magic. The girl has no ties to Tortall; her loyalties are unknown and uncertain. What reason does this one have to use her Gift in service of Tortall? What would keep her from using it against us?"

Will sighed, running his fingers through his hair in an unconscious gesture. "She would surely have died if it had not been for my intervention—I can only hope that it will be counter enough for any anathema she might feel about our abduction of her."

Shaking his head, Rob got to his feet. He put a hand on Will's shoulder. "Hope is a flimsy defense against treachery—something Thaylians are quite well known for."

"Do not give me any more of your prejudices, Rob," Will snapped, his anger getting the better of him. "Do you think my judgment so poor? And even if you discount my judgment, surely you can respect that of the Gods. Everyone saw the Lioness last night, something that has not happened in the memory of anyone alive today."

Rob shook his head. "The ways of the Gods are a mystery to any save themselves. And you wrong me, Majesty, for I have great respect for your judgment," he said. "But I must beg leave of you to disagree with you on this matter. You must act as you best see fit—you would not be worthy of the title of King if you did not—but please, do not ask this of me, Will," Rob continued, his eyes solemn. "I will train her if you order me to do so, but I would prefer that you leave the training of your Thaylian to some other mage."

Will felt his anger draining away as he looked into the somber face of his chief Mage. Its passing left him tired, tired unto his very bones. It was a lonely path he trod, as King of a doomed nation. How could he deny his people the small hope of another Gifted person, though she be of foreign decent? They would need all the help they could get in the coming battle, it would be wrong of him to ignore this Gift from the Gods.

No, he was firm in his decision, and his dreams confirmed that it was the right one.

"Then I will put the question to Tohmas," Will said, "and hope that he does not feel the same about Ana as you do." Then he schooled his face into stillness and strode out of the tent, leaving Rob behind to wonder and doubt.

~:~

That morning Ana slept late. The sun was already very high in the sky when she finally opened her eyes. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was, then it all came back to her. She felt a blush rising because of her behavior the night before. _I cried like a baby. I haven't cried so hard in a very long time._

She heard someone moving about in the tent. Praying that it wasn't the King she pushed back the curtains.

One of the servants looked at her. He gestured towards a steaming bowl of some unknown substance. Ana gratefully rose and wandered over to where her breakfast lay. She settled down at the table where they'd feasted the night before and was just lifting a spoonful of the delicious-smelling, but unfamiliar porridge to her mouth when there was a commotion at the entrance of the tent.

Ana looked up, the spoon suspended half-way to her mouth, as the most handsome man she'd ever seen burst into the tent.

"Will--" The man cried, then cut off, noticing her for the first time.

She stared at him, awed by how beautiful he was. His hair was a dusky chestnut and it spilled over his forehead in soft ringlets. His face was _stunning_, with its perfectly straight nose, high cheekbones, and full, red lips. His eyes, a soft brown, smiled into hers. His features reminded her vaguely of Will's—though their colorings were distinctly different—and she wondered distantly if they were related.

"Oh," He said, clicking his heels together as he made a small bow. His curls bounced as he bent his head. "You must be the Thaylian."

Ana started at the sound of his voice. She snapped her open mouth closed and quickly lowered the spoon back into the bowl of porridge. Only then did she register that the words had been Thaylian.

"Oh," She said, unintentionally parroting him. "You speak Thaylian!"

The beautiful man smiled, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth. "Not very much, and not very well," he said modestly, in perfectly accented Thaylian.

Ana caught herself staring again and reminded herself to blink. Distantly, she knew that she should say something in response, but all she could think of was that scene from her favorite adventure novel where the heroine is kidnapped by a handsome stranger who was paid to kill her by her evil step-sister. But instead, he falls in love with her and they end up…

Thankfully, she was rescued from her waking dream involving a certain handsome Tortallian by Will's entrance.

"Marcus!" Will exclaimed, striding forward. The gorgeous man—Marcus apparently—turned toward the King. "I was just looking for you," the King said. "I have another mission for you." Their conversation—about spies and messages from the North—washed over her as she contemplated what a nice name Marcus was.

She found herself comparing the two of them as they quietly talked. Once again she was struck by the similarities between them. They were much of a height and very similarly built, both with wide, muscular shoulders and narrow waists. Their faces were very similar as well, despite their dramatically different colorings. But the King's face was hard and closed as Marc's was not, an effect, Ana thought, of the great weight of leadership.

As she watched, Marc's expressive eyebrows furrowed together and he spoke more animatedly, punctuating his words with gestures. He swept his hand in her direction and said, "If Rob will not teach her then surely you will give me the post. You are too busy to spend the time to teach her our language, and I know enough of Thaylian to make bridging the language barrier easier."

Ana's jaw dropped, for it was only then that she realized that the men were talking in Tortallian _and she could understand them._

Will frowned, the sharp planes of his face darkening noticeably. He glanced at her and she quickly dropped her eyes, focusing on her forgotten porridge. His response was quiet but firm, "You are needed elsewhere, Marc. I need you and your spy network to ferret out _exactly_ when Li Dubyn will attack. Such foreknowledge would be greatly to our advantage. I can't spare you."

Ana picked up her spoon and absently put it in her mouth. She swallowed automatically, her mind preoccupied with the strange syllables of the Tortallian language. It was an odd feeling, to hear nonsense sounds and yet to understand their meaning clearly. _I don't understand, _she thought, _yesterday their words were gibberish…and today…_

She was startled out of her reverie when Marc turned to her. "It was nice to make your acquaintance, Ana," he said in careful Thaylian, bowing again. His warm eyes smiled into hers, and she felt her heart-rate accelerate. She swallowed, startled by her body's reaction to his proximity. His scent washed over her, a cool, clean smell which she couldn't identify, but was nonetheless delectable. "I'm sorry that I could not stay and talk with you in your language, but I have…" he paused, searching for the word, "…duties…to do. Perhaps we will converse when I return, yes?"

"I would like that very much," Ana said, a little breathlessly. Over Marc's shoulder she could see Will frowning dangerously. "But I would not keep you from your duties," she added, for his benefit.

Marc smiled at her again, then turned and strode out of the tent. Will watched him go, then turned toward her. His face softened as he looked at her, and Ana blushed as she remembered him carrying her to bed like a naughty child the night before.

And then another memory of the previous night struck her, the memory of the Lioness smiling as she said, _"A gift for you, to ease your way."_

She looked down at her barely-touched porridge, but it held no answers for her. _Some gift, _she thought, marveling. _I wonder, can I only understand Tortallian now…or can I speak it as well?_

"Majesty," Ana said timidly to her porridge, "I think that something very extraordinary happened last night." _Extraordinary, _was a bit of an understatement; it was startling—unfathomable—to hear the unfamiliar sounds falling from her lips as easily as if she had spoken Tortallian all her life.

She glanced up at the King to gauge his reaction and— for a second—caught a look of astonishment and—was it cunning?—in his eyes. Then he looked away and he was once again as inscrutable as ever.

"Well," the King muttered, "this certainly changes things." His words were clearly Tortallian, but comprehensible nevertheless. He shook his head, a small smile playing across his lips. "The Lioness was always a tricky one, but I've never heard of such a gift before. I had planned to have one of my men teach you our language, of course, but—remembering my own language lessons—I despaired of having you speak fluently in the next year or so." He turned to Ana, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Thanks to the Lioness I guess that will no longer be necessary."

"It is a strange feeling," Ana said, tasting the Tortallian words on her tongue, "to be able to hear and speak words that my reason tells me I should not be able to understand, yet understand I do."

"It is a great gift the Lioness has given you," the King said gravely, "Such a gift is not to be taken lightly." Then he smiled again, a smile of such mischievousness that Ana couldn't help but smile in return. "I cannot _wait_ to see the look on the men's faces when they hear you speak in Tortallian." Then he turned, gesturing for her to follow him. "Come, there is someone I would have you meet." Obediently, Ana got to her feet, making her way across the carpets to where he stood. She looked around quizzically, wondering if he was going to make the 'someone' appear out of thin air, as the servants seemed to sometimes. The King caught her wandering glance and chuckled. Startled, Ana stared at him; she had not known the King of Tortall could laugh.

Will smiled down at her, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. _Marc may be more beautiful, _Ana thought, as she held his gaze, _but Will has nicer eyes. _She blushed at the thought, lowering her own eyes.

"He is waiting for us outside," the King said, by way of explanation. He motioned for her to go first and Ana stepped past him, murmuring, "Yes, Majesty."

"One more thing," he said, catching her hand. It was an innocent enough gesture, but Ana had just been made very aware that she was a lone female in a camp full of men and the casual touch of the King of Tortall made her jump like a frightened rabbit. He dropped her hand, but his eyes were serious as he said, "Please, call me Will."

~ ~:~ ~


	12. Tortallian Justice

Chapter Eleven: Tortallian Justice

Ana stepped out of the King's tent into the bright sunshine of late morning. After the cool shade of the tent's interior, the hot desert air seemed to strike her with an almost palpable force. Sweat popped out on her skin instantly, and she squinted, her eyes adjusting slowly to the sudden brightness.

The camp looked very much as it had the night before, with men, horses, dogs, and cats intermingling as they all went about their daily duties. Nobody rushed or ran, but the camp seemed to buzz with purpose and the faces of the humans were grim. The guards that had stood outside the tent's entrance were gone, but in their places leaned two men. One of them was Lucas, the giant man who had accompanied Will on his kidnapping quest. As per usual, he ignored her, staring off into the camp and whistling a jaunty tune.

The other man was the curly-haired man who had sat at her left hand during dinner the previous evening. He smiled at her in a friendly way and bowed politely as she approached. Eager to showcase her new talent, Ana bowed in return, and said in clear Tortallian, "Hello, it is nice to meet you, I am Ana, the Thaylian."

There was a great crashing sound as Lucas knocked over the barrel he'd been perched on and it crashed into a nearby tent. His face was a picture of pure astonishment, his mouth working soundlessly as he stared at her. The Tortallian word _flabbergasted_ popped suddenly into Ana's mind, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a giggle.

The others were not so discreet. Will roared with laughter, slapping his knee as he doubled over from hilarity. Even the curly-haired man was laughing quietly, though his bemused expression betrayed his own surprise at Ana's unexpected speech.

Lucas finally pulled his face together, shooting a glare in the direction of his King, and said, "It speaks! What sort of devilry is this?"

"Don't mind Lucas," the curly-haired man said, dismissing the giant man with a wave of his hand. (Will was still laughing in the background) "He puts on a gruff exterior, but really he is as soft as a feather pillow." He smiled at her again and Ana smiled back, feeling that she had just made a friend. "My name is Tohmas," the curly-haired man said, putting a hand on his chest. "I was to be the one to teach you our language, but it seems as though someone has already done the job for me," he finished, an amused glint lighting his hazel eyes.

"How?" Lucas said, grabbing her shoulders as he searched her face intently. It was such a startling contrast to his earlier behavior toward her that Ana couldn't help but blush under his scrutiny. Suddenly Lucas's face changed, as he seemed to read some meaning in her face that he hadn't before. "No!" He gasped, stumbling backward. Ana looked at him with concern, wondering what in the world could be so startling about her face. Lucas looked hard at Will, who had finally ceased his laughter and was standing, arms akimbo, with an amused expression on his dark face.

"You knew all along didn't you?" Lucas demanded of his ruler. "Why didn't you say something! Here I've been making an ass of myself for no reason!"

Ana looked back and forth between the two men, bewildered as to what Lucas meant.

Will shrugged. "You are a stubborn man when you want to be, Lucas of Silverlee, but I knew that you would open your eyes and see what was in front of your face eventually," he said.

Lucas turned abruptly to Ana, making her jump. He bowed low, then straightened. "Please accept my apology, Ana of Thaylia," he looked thoroughly abashed, and Ana wondered why. "My behavior toward you has been inexcusable. As a guest of that one—" he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Will, "you deserve a warm welcome and proper respect from all. I have ignored the laws of hospitality by ignoring you these past days, and for that I deserve a just punishment."

Then he knelt in the dirt at her feet, bowing his head. Ana turned a puzzled eye towards Will, who said, "By the laws of our land, Lucas has tarnished his honor. It is your place to name his punishment, whether it be twenty lashes or twenty weeks of scrubbing pots in the scullery."

Ana looked down at Lucas's humbly kneeling form, musing over the differences between the Thaylian justice system and the one in which she now found herself. She thought for a moment, pondering a proper punishment, then smiled as a simple solution came to her.

"Rise, Lucas of Silverlee," Ana said, "and accept your punishment." Lucas stood stiffly, looking off over her shoulder, his face blank. "Since you tarnished your honor by ignoring me these past days," Ana continued gravely, "you may restore it by showing me around the camp and answering any questions I may have about your culture, impertinent though they may be."

Lucas looked at her, his expression startled. Then his face changed and he laughed suddenly, a great booming laugh that echoed among the tents. Will and Tohmas beamed at her as well and Ana blushed again, cursing her pale skin for betraying her every embarrassment.

Lucas clapped her on the shoulder, his big, strong hands jarring her. She struggled to keep a wince from her face, but was uncertain of her success. "I think you will get along just fine," Lucas chucked. They shared a smile, and Ana knew that by her actions she had just gained another friend among the Tortallians.

"Well then," Will said, "I leave you to Lucas's overly-large but capable hands. When he has sated your curiosity for the day he will show you to Tohmas's tent, where your other lessons will begin." Will looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite name—either in Thaylian or Tortallian—and then said, "I trust he will answer any of your questions faithfully, but there is one subject I ask you not to broach," He paused. "As your fate seems bound up with the Lioness, I would ask that you refrain from asking about her. It is…not wise to tempt fate." He frowned at her, like she was a riddle that he could not quite see the answer to, then nodded to Lucas and Tohmas and strode off, disappearing quickly among the maze of tents.

Ana looked curiously at Tohmas. "My other lessons?" she asked, dutifully refraining from asking about the Lioness, though she burned to do so. The blonde haired man smiled mysteriously. "Save your questions for Lucas," he said. "I will explain later, after you have explored the camp. When you are ready, I will be waiting for you." He bowed to her again and then took his leave as well, leaving her alone with Lucas.

"So," Lucas boomed, clapping his hands together. "Since I am now to be your tour-guide, where would you like to begin?"

The rest of the day was spent in Lucas's company, wandering through the camp as Ana indulged her curiosity about the foreign land she found herself in. She soon discovered that her new-found proficiency in Tortallian had its limitations. Though she instinctively knew the meaning of words and things that she had known in Thaylian, she could not always guess the names of things that had no name in Thaylian, such as the flora and fauna that was unique to the Tortallian desert. Lucas supplied ready answers when her six-sense fell short, however, and the new words seemed to lodge in her brain, seamless adding themselves to her new-found vocabulary.

The camp was situated at the edge of an oasis, the only remnant of what, Lucas told her, had once been Lake Tarrigon. It was a startling contrast to see the green trees and plants that flourished around the water source, only feet from the pale, empty sand of the desert. Ana smiled as he named the various plants and insects that they saw, noting the way Lucas's face softened as he spoke of the varieties native to his homeland.

_They love this land fiercely, _Ana thought, a little jealous of the connection the Tortallians felt toward their land. It showed in the way that Lucas talked of his people, his culture. They were an old people, the Tortallians, with long memories. Ana was glad of Lucas's readiness to answer her questions about the land she found herself in, but she couldn't help but feel outside of it all; she had no comparable attachments to her own homeland.

The time passed quickly, filled with Lucas's tales of Tortall.

When the harsh desert sun had made its way across the sky and was beginning to sink into the western hills, Lucas said, "Enough! My stomach demands food, therefore, I suggest the next stop on our tour be the mess tent. We shall sup together and then I will take you to Tohmas's tent."

Ana nodded, content. She too was hungry, and despite Lucas's best efforts to inform her about all of the mundane aspects of the traveling camp and Tortallian culture (the hierarchy of the Tortallian nobility, for example, which made Ana groan inwardly. She had hoped to escape courtiers in her venture, but it seemed that those parasites were to be found in every country under the sun, even one as dry and desolate as Tortall) he could not tell her what she really wanted to know: namely, the content of the lessons that Tohmas was to give her and who, exactly, the Lioness was.

Together they entered a long, spacious tent where several long tables were set up. There were no chairs, but the tables were low enough that the men who sat or kneeled on the ground had no trouble reaching their food. The tables were packed with men, the air buzzed with their conversations. For the most part, the men ignored her and Lucas, but a few of them called out to him. Lucas waved and nodded in response, leaning close to Ana to whisper in her ear, "I usually try to sup with my men in the mess hall, rather than take a meal alone in my tent. It gives them a chance to interact with me and fosters a much-needed solidarity."

Ana looked up at the big man. She had guessed that he was an important figure in the Tortallian camp, but it still surprised her to learn that these were _his _men. "Then you are the General of these men?" Ana asked, using the Thaylian word when she could not guess the proper Tortallian one.

Lucas chuckled. "You've pegged me! These men are the Kings's Own, the best soldiers in the land and the King's personal guard, and I am their Lord Commander."

Ana blushed, watching as several of the King's Own moved aside to make room for her and their Commander. "I did not realize when I asked you to be my guide that you were of such a high station. I would not wish to keep you from your duties."

"Your punishment was justly given and justly deserved," Lucas said, smiling as he handed her a plate of steaming meat and vegetables. "Besides, I do not mind taking a day off from my command. There is not much for me to do while we wait here for the King's messengers to come and go." He winked at her, "I am a man of action and I hate the long wait before the battle, I'm glad you came along to alleviate my boredom."

Ana took a bite of the meat and found it delicious. She chewed thoughtfully, happy that she had not inconvenienced Lucas with her punishment.

As they ate, several of the King's Own approached them to talk quietly with Lucas about their private affairs. Each of them bowed politely to her and introduced themselves, but Ana quickly lost track of their names as they came and went. She half-listened to their conversations, impressed by Lucas's patience. He listened carefully to every petty concern and complaint, taking the time to think before he gave his answers. Every once in a while he would give an order or two, but for the most part he simply listened to his men, letting them know that he cared about them, one and all.

Watching Lucas interact with his men made her think of Darius. He too commanded a large number of men. She wondered if he, like Lucas, took the time to listen to all of their various concerns. She remembered all of the time he had spent with her, teaching her how to ride and shoot, soothing her little scrapes and injuries and comforting her when the taunts of the courtiers became unbearable. _Yes_, Ana thought, _Darius would do the same thing. A leader must share in the concerns of his men if they are to put their complete trust in him on the battlefield. _

Finally, Lucas gave a final command to the last man. Nodding to Ana, he rose, waving again as the King's Own shouted their farewells to their leader. They left the mess tent, walking slowly through the camp as twilight descended over the land. Eventually they came to a small tent, at the very edge of the camp. A light shone from the interior and Ana could see the shadow of the man inside.

"Here I leave you, Ana." Lucas said, "Tohmas awaits."

Ana was eager to enter the tent and have one mystery, at least, unveiled, but she hesitated, one final question pushing at her lips. Lucas noticed her reluctance and quirked an eyebrow. "There is nothing in that tent that will harm you," he said gently, "or do you pause because you have one final impertinent question to put to me?"

Ana smiled guiltily. "There _is_ one thing I've been wondering about."

Lucas waved a hand, "Let's have it."

"I understand that you dishonored yourself by ignoring me…but _why _did you ignore me in the first place? Especially if you knew it was dishonorable?"

To her amazement, Lucas blushed, his tanned-skin darkening to a rosier hue. "As Will said, I was a blind fool. I made an ass of myself by making certain _assumptions_ as to the reason for his abduction of you. I ignored you to showcase my disapproval of his actions."

The blood rushed to Ana's face as she realized what, exactly, Lucas had assumed Will had kidnapped her for. She had not considered what the other Tortallians might think of their King dashing off into the desert to kidnap a foreign girl. _And I've been sleeping in his tent! No wonder Lucas thought what he did._

Lucas tapped her arm, making her look up at him. "I'm glad this was not so," he said softly, "I am glad that Will brought you here before your Gift could kill you."

Ana's eyebrows contracted in a question. "My Gift?" she asked.

"_A gift for you,"_ the Lioness had said, "_to ease your way."_

Lucas smiled, pointing to the tent in front of him. "That question is for Tohmas. Go on, it's his turn to answer your impertinent questions."

~ ~:~ ~


	13. The Gift

Chapter Twelve: The Gift

Ana drew aside the tent flap, ducking quickly inside.

Tohmas's tent was much smaller than the one she shared with the King (Ana blushed at the thought), big enough only for a bedroll, a single carpet, and a small, flat-topped chest. The chest was open, revealing an assortment of odd things, from books to smoothly polished stones to tiny little boxes and envelopes which might have held anything. Brightly colored cushions were scattered throughout the small space like autumn leaves fallen from their tree. A beautifully woven tapestry covered one side of the tent, creating the illusion of open space.

But perhaps the most fascinating feature of the tent was its illumination. A sphere of soft, yellow light hovered at the tent's peak, with no visible means of support. It looked like a miniature sun, a star that had been captured and hung in the sky of the tent's ceiling.

_It's beautiful, _Ana thought, awestruck. She stared up at the little star for some time, watching as it glowed with its steady light. Finally she looked away, but a ghost image of the sphere followed wherever her eyes turned.

Tohmas knelt on his bedroll, the velvety folds of the soft robe he wore over his tunic and breeches pooled around his knees. His eyes were closed, the lines of his face relaxed.

Seconds stretched to minutes as Ana stood in the doorway of Tohmas's tent, watching him breathing steadily. He must have heard her entry, but he showed no sign of acknowledging her presence. He did not open his eyes or speak. _Perhaps he is asleep_, Ana thought, an amused smile springing onto her lips.

She took a step forward, meaning to shake Tohmas awake, but something made her hesitate. She watched him for a moment more, noting how serene he looked. _If he is asleep, _Ana thought, _then I would not wake him from such a peaceful slumber. _Instead, she folded her legs beneath her, settling on a cushion as she sat facing him.

She let her mind wander as she waited for him to wake, and her eyes drifted over to the tapestry. It was a beautiful thing, so perfectly wrought that Ana marveled at how lovingly each string must have been woven. It showed a landscape, wildflowers blooming along the edge of a cliff. A road wound slowly into the distance, a dusty path which paralleled the edges of where the sky met land. In the background, the sun set slowly over the sea.

The colors were vivid, saturated with the color of life. Her eyes wandered over it, awed by its beauty. It looked so very real. She could almost see the wind, making the wildflowers dance as they turned their faces to the setting sun.

She _could_ see the wind, blowing along the cliff.

Ana stared, her eyes widening as the tapestry came to life. She could hear the crickets chirping and the evening calls of strange birds. She could see the wind blowing across the cliff face, stirring the dust in the road into swirls and eddies. She could see the sea churning as the wind blew over it, and she could hear the steady crash of waves in the distance.

A woman came into view, leading behind her a roan mare. She walked with the steady gait of a traveler, her stride long and elastic as she made her way along the cliff face. Then she paused, leaving the horse behind as she stepped to the edge of the cliff. Her hair, red as fire, glinted in the light of the setting sun. For a moment she simply stood there, watching the sun set. The mare grazed, as fireflies danced in the evening air. Bats darted above them, snapping up mosquitoes as they added their squeaky voices to the sounds of the evening.

Then she turned, and Ana was suddenly looking into her own face. She looked different—older perhaps, but also healthy in a way that she wasn't used to seeing her face. She had been sick for a long time and it still showed, but there was now a quiet sort of strength there too. And then the Ana in the tapestry winked, her violet eyes twinkling as she smiled at herself.

Ana blinked, and the tapestry appeared once again before her eyes—its woven landscape a bland imitation of the scene she had just witnessed.

"What is it you see, when you look at the tapestry?" Tohmas said softly.

Ana looked back at him, her neck cracking as she turned her head. His eyes were open now, but his face still retained the tranquility of his _meditation_. The Tortallian word fell into her mind, and Ana suddenly understood that Tohmas had been neither asleep nor ignoring her—he'd been testing her.

She told him of her vision, watching his face closely. His expression did not change, but his grey eyes darkened with a knowing sympathy.

"It is not uncommon for those who have the Gift to have visions." Tohmas said, "Once upon a time, it was believed that such visions were portents sent by the Gods…but most often such visions are incomprehensible. They may be of anything—a face, an image, a scene from ancient history or a glimpse of the future that may yet come to be. I would not let them worry you, my dear. You will understand them—or not—as the Gods will."

Ana looked at him, speechless. It was the general belief in Thaylia that people who saw things that weren't really there were _insane_, an explanation Ana thought she might prefer to the idea of Gods sticking images in her head from on high—or wherever it was they dwelled.

"Now, that you have proved your patience," Tohmas said, his eyes crinkling in a smile, "Why don't you ask me the question that is ready to burst from your lips?"

"What is the Gift?" Ana blurted out.

Tohmas shook his head, "Wiser men than I have pondered on just what, exactly, the Gift is...but no one _really_ knows." He paused for a long moment, his eyes turning inward. Ana wanted to scream with frustration, but she kept her face still and impassive as she waited for him to continue. She might not have been the most patient of people, but she had always been very good at being stubborn. Her pride wouldn't let her show her annoyance at being made to wait for an explanation.

Finally Tohmas sighed, and his eyes saw her again. Ana wondered how old he was. His face and eyes hinted at many years of experience, but his hair was untouched by grey, its tight curls as yellow as the light that shown down upon them.

When he spoke again, his voice was full of quiet wonder. "Our folktales say that it originated as a Gift from the Gods to the Old Ones, in the time before history when this world was still new born. The Gift lived in their blood, and was passed down generation to generation. When the Old Ones faded from this world, their Gift lived on in the blood of our ancestors. It still flows through the veins of Tortallians today, though the work of time has diluted its potency.

"It is an enigma, the Gift. It is like an ability, the ability to tap into something greater than ourselves. It can be used to accomplish many things. It can be used to heal illnesses, wounds, and other physical injuries. It can also be used to start fires, summon storms, create illusions, torture people, and even kill. Some people are born with the ability, others are not. History tells us that a very few people have, through long years of study and practice, learned how to tap into the magic, but it is a rare thing."

"Magic." Ana repeated, dubious. The word was the same in both Tortallian and Thaylian, yet somehow Ana doubted that Tohmas was talking about the same magic that was spoken of by Thaylian nursemaids to frighten young children. This _Gift_ did not sound like the magic employed by the witches and wizards of her homeland.

"I have this Gift?" Ana said slowly. She shook her head, "How?"

"The most obvious explanation," Tohmas replied, "is that you have Tortallian blood."

Ana stared at her hands, thinking of her father. She knew next to nothing about him, save that he was from outside the Empire and said to be raving mad—_it runs in the family, _Ana thought. She wondered if he, too, saw visions of things that he did not understand.

The melody of her lullaby ran through her mind.

_Hush now little one, fear not the night. The lioness will watch over you tonight. _

She gasped aloud, her eyes widening. "The _Lioness_ will watch over you tonight," She whispered, looking into Tohmas's curious grey eyes.

~:~

Tohmas saw Ana's face change suddenly as she stared at her hands. He watched as some unknown connection was made, the pieces of a personal puzzle falling into place. She gasped, a sound that signified both wonder and terror, and her eyes widened with her inspiration. Then she looked up at him with those uncanny eyes, their violet depths displaying a depth of understanding that belied her youthful face. "The _Lioness _will watch over you tonight," she whispered.

Then her eyes hardened, glinting with a cold fire like the gems they were so reminiscent of. He saw the question in her eyes before she asked it, and it saddened him to know that he could not answer it.

"Who was the _Lioness_?" Ana asked, a demand in her tone.

He might have let his silence answer for him, but her hard gaze commanded an answer. _She is used to having her questions answered, and promptly, _he observed. He felt like a fly caught in a spider's web, so forceful was that amethyst stare.

"It is not my place to tell you of her," he said, with quiet finality. "You will know when the Gods will it."

Ana lifted her eyebrows. Tohmas suppressed a smile as he read the frustrated resentment written all over it. Watching the play of expressions across her face was an amusing exercise. It was obvious that she had never mastered the trick of schooling her face into stillness to hide her thoughts. _Perhaps she has never needed to hide her emotions, or perhaps she is simply unaware what an open book her face is, _he thought.

But on the whole he was very impressed with the red-haired Thaylian who bore such an eerie resemblance to Tortall's Last Champion. Yes, he was very much going to enjoy teaching her to use her power. Tohmas sent a thankful prayer to the Goddess, grateful that Will had chosen him to instruct this child of destiny.

"The Gift is not an easy burden to bear" Tohmas said gently, "As you know well."

Confusion flickered across Ana's forehead. "I do?" she wondered.

"It used to be that a lot of people had the Gift," Tohmas said, "There were many who were not trained, and they did not die. But for some reason the Gift has started killing off those who do not use it." Tohmas paused, wondering if he should contextualize the statement with Tortallian history, but he decided against going into _that_ whole explanation. If Ana had been born in Tortall she would have been familiar with the legends surrounding the Blight, but she was not, and this was neither the time nor place for her to learn of it. Instead he stuck to the simplest way of explaining the Gift to her, saying, "The first symptoms of the sickness are the headaches."

Understanding bloomed once again in her eyes, eyes which were haunted by the memory of a great and terrible pain.

"The Gift is killing me." Ana said, her voice dead, devoid of hope. Her eyes were unfocused, her mind immersed in memory. "None of the _doctors_ knew what was wrong with me," she murmured, "They told me I was perfectly healthy, that their _scans_ and _x-rays_ showed nothing physically amiss. They could not explain the headaches, the sudden bouts of nausea, the convulsions. They could only watch me die."

Tohmas did not know what a _scan _or _x-ray_ might be, but he guessed that her _doctors_ were healers like him. "They did not have to tools to help you," he said.

Ana toyed with the laces of her left boot, a frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows.

"I have never trained a person who is as old as you," Tohmas informed her, "I can think of none who have survived more than three or four years past their Gift's awakening. I think that the very fact that you are still alive today is portentous of your success, but I must warn you that I have no idea how your training will progress. I hope that learning to embrace your Gift will be cure enough for the headaches, but I cannot be sure that you will never feel that pain again."

"Over all," he concluded, "I think we have ample reason to expect a full recovery. You took the first steps down the path of a cure with Will on your journey here. Now it is time to walk further down that path. Remember what you felt that day, and try to find your Gift within yourself."

~:~

Ana blushed as she remembered her escape attempt and the events that had followed. _I may as well paint my cheeks permanently red,_ Ana thought as she felt the blood rushing to her face once more. _I seem to be blushing so much recently. _

She closed her eyes, searching for the prickly warmth she had felt that day. Long moments passed, but she felt nothing, nothing save the slow, steady beat of her heart, the whistle of breath as her lungs expelled air, and the quiet gurgle of her stomach digesting. Ana stared at the backs of her eyelids, her frustration growing. _Hello eyelids, _she thought, _you haven't, perchance, seen this Gift I'm supposed to be looking for have you? _

Tohmas must have sensed her frustration, for he said in his calm voice, "You must empty your mind of all distractions. Ignore every sensation save that of your Gift. It is there inside of you, but if you let the other sensations of your body distract you then you will never find it. Take deep breaths, and empty your mind of all thoughts."

She breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly as she tried to empty her mind of all thoughts and distractions. She imagined herself suspended in a sea of nothingness, far from where her body sat on the soft carpet of Tohmas's tent. An errant thought floated across the void, but she snuffed it out like a breeze snuffing a candle flame. She breathed in deeply once more, focusing all her energy on remembering the sensation of magic.

And then she felt it, the soft, warm tickle of her Gift, dancing along the edges of her consciousness.

She flung herself toward it—as she had before—but the sensation disappeared from her mind as suddenly as it had come.

"Do not strain toward it," Tohmas admonished her softly. "If you struggle too hard you will never hold it Let it come to you and fill you up. Embrace it, but do not reach for it yet. In time, you will learn how to summon it, but first you must learn to surrender yourself to its power. Remember to breathe and try again."

Ana rolled her eyes, though she kept them closed, hoping that Tohmas hadn't seen.

Once again she breathed in deeply, returning again to the dark void of nothingness. After a moment, she felt again the flickering warmth that was her Gift. Instead of reaching for it, however, she contented herself with simply being aware of its presence. As she held herself in check it seemed to seep toward her, spreading from her mind into her body, where it pulsed through her bloodstream. Ana felt the prickly spark of it across her arms, leaving goose bumps where it passed.

She opened her eyes, half expecting to see sparks dancing across the skin of her arms.

And then—quite suddenly—there _were_ sparks dancing along her arms. Violet sparks, which leapt and jumped on her skin like tiny purple stars.

"Oh!" Ana gasped. Her concentration slipped; her hold on the magic faltering in her surprise. The sparks winked out of existence, and she felt the power draining from her limbs. In another moment it was gone, but she could still feel the echo of the ticklish fire pulsing at the edges of her awareness.

She looked up into Tohmas's smiling face, her eyes full of wonder.

"It is a singular feeling, is it not?" He asked in his quiet way. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled happily, their folds revealing his satisfaction at her success.

"Indeed it is," Ana murmured.

Tohmas closed his eyes, lifting his hand. Ana could feel the power building in him; it tickled her awareness, making her nose itch faintly. Then the power seemed to reach a tipping point and it burst outward from him. A small tongue of fire appeared above his palm, burning with a familiar yellow hue.

Tohmas opened his eyes, looking at the yellow flame that danced in the air above his hand.

"There are two ways to use the Gift," he said, "The first, and easiest, is to simply let the power come over you and cast it outwards." He paused, the yellow tongue of flame reflecting in his grey eyes. "The disadvantage to this technique," he continued, "is that it can be sensed by anyone with the Gift who happens to be nearby." Suddenly the flames twisted, contorting into a yellow butterfly which floated away from his hand. This time there was no accompanying feeling of power from the mage, no warning of Tohmas's use of his Gift. "The second way is harder," Tohmas continued, watching the progress of the little butterfly as it fluttered about the ceiling of the tent, "but it is very useful, because it does not broadcast your use of the Gift. To do it you must simultaneously let the Gift saturate your awareness while at the same time holding it within yourself. It is a tricky thing, to embrace the magic and shield that embrace from others. Many mages never learn the knack of it, but, if you have discipline enough to learn it, it can save your life." Tohmas turned his kind gaze toward her again, but his eyes were sad and weary. "This you will learn, for these times are dangerous, and I have a forbidding feeling that you will need every advantage in the coming months."

_Every advantage for what?_ Ana wondered. _I do not know why I am here and what it is I am supposed to do. _But she kept her doubts and questions to herself, for she knew that Tohmas could not answer them any more than she could. _He would only say, 'You will know when the Gods will it.'_

So instead she asked, "Why does it slip away from me so easily?"

Tohmas smiled his kindly smile. "You must have patience, Ana. Magic is not something that can be learned overnight, even for someone who is blessed by the Gods. Every time you use your Gift it will become easier and easier, until you will be able to access it without even thinking about it. You have accomplished a great deal tonight, be proud of that." He cocked his head to the side, his expression curious. "Using your Gift does not come without cost, however," he said, "like exercising your body, exercising your Gift expends energy. When you use your Gift you use your strength too, use too much of it and you will die. Are you tired, now?"

Ana thought about it for a moment. "Not really," she said, surprised to realize it was true. "I feel like I will sleep well tonight, but it is no worse than what you feel after a long day."

Tohmas nodded, his face thoughtful. "It is as I thought," he said. "You have a great power within you." He was silent for a moment, contemplating, then he said, "I think we have accomplished enough for tonight. Get some rest, and return here tomorrow after your luncheon. Do you think you can find your way back to the King's tent?"

Ana nodded, getting slowly to her feet. Her body was a little stiff from sitting from so long, but she ignored the complaints of her muscles. She bowed to Tohmas, saying, "Thank you, Tohmas, for teaching me about my Gift." _And for saving my life,_ she silently added.

The mage inclined his head, and his eyes said that he had understood both her spoken and unspoken words.

~ ~:~ ~


	14. Bull's Eye

A Note from Nessa'fur:

I would just like to say a big thank you, from the depths of my sarcastic little heart, to whomever it was that decided to attack my computer yesterday. I am especially grateful for your exquisite sense of timing, for, you see, I had _just finished _writing that really important scene—you know, the big battle with Scanra—and I was far too excited and self-satisfied for my own good. Thank you for crushing my inflated ego beneath your virus-ridden heel. I'm also sure that my readers would like to thank you as well, for delaying this chapter's publication. Oh, and my computer is too busy freaking out right now, but I'm sure she would like me to extend her appreciation as well.

Thanks again!

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Thirteen: Bull's eye

The next day was very much the same, as were the days that followed. The camp stayed where it was, next to the oasis. Every morning Ana woke and stepped out of the King's tent to find the camp already awake and buzzing; messengers came and went, making their way among the men of the King's Own as they went about their business, while cats threaded beneath their feet and dogs waved their tales and barked the morning's greetings. But despite the hum of conversation and the noise of the animal population, the camp was subdued. Ana could feel the tension in the air as she made her way through the tents. It was most obvious in the mess tent, where the clank of silverware battled with the hushed conversation of the men, who muttered dark thoughts to each other as they supped.

Ana saw nothing of the King, though she saw plenty of Lucas and Tohmas. She gathered, from the conversations she overheard, that he had left the camp the same day that Marcus had, though no one seemed to know the reason for his journey. The reason for Marcus's mission was more lucid and much discussed among the men. War with Scanra—the country that lay to the north of Tortall, beyond the northern range that Lucas called the Tusaine Mountains and General Brooks had called the Lutseine Range—was at the tip of every one's tongue.

Ana listened to their worries and fretted, wondering what the future held for Tortall and, by extension, herself. In the moments when she was not otherwise occupied, her thoughts often turned in the direction that the King and his Spymaster had gone, wondering, as the King's Own did, what they would find on their journey. She wondered if they were together, where they had gone, and what they were doing.

But these moments were few and far between, for, between them, Lucas and Tohmas kept her plenty busy.

The mornings she spent with Lucas, following him around as he went about his business as Commander of the King's Own. Sometimes, he regaled her with tales of Tortall's past, from the legends of the mysterious Old Ones, to stories of the Gods—Tortall had many, it seemed, immoral all—and the enigmatic ways in which they interacted with morals. But more often she simply watched him, as he supervised the training exercises that the Own went about, or argued with his subordinates, or listened to messengers.

After lunch—which she invariably ate with Lucas in the mess tent, surrounded by the muted conversations of anxious men—Ana would go to Tohmas's tent, where she learned of the ways of magic and the Gift. As she learned more and more about the mysterious power that resided in her, her awe and reverence grew in proportion to her knowledge. It seemed an impossible thing, so utterly foreign to her practical Thaylian upbringing, and it never ceased to amaze her. Yet, with every passing day it became easier to access her Gift (and it slipped through her fingertips less and less often) and gradually she became accustomed to the feeling of ticklish magic that now shared space with the rest of her.

Tohmas was a patient and encouraging teacher, reassuring her when she failed and praising her when she succeeded. She found herself the most comfortable with her new life when she sat across from him, listening to him speak quietly of magic.

"There are many tools that one can utilize to channel magic," he said, one day. "Sometimes it is useful to use a spell to help guide your intentions. It may be spoken, written down, or merely thought. The words will help channel and focus the energy you expend, but anything you do with magic is primarily governed by your intentions."

Tohmas leaned forward, his face suddenly grave. "It is for this very reason that magic is so useful and so dangerous. Whenever, _whenever_, you use the Gift you must concentrate solely on what it is you want to happen. You must be able to hold the spell in your mind and not let anything distract you." He frowned for a moment, "Many a mage has destroyed him or her self by losing control of a spell. This is why I have had you practice meditation. You must be able to focus on the magic to the exclusion of everything else that is going on around you, whether it be a quiet conversation or the chaos of battle.

"That is why," he continued, "in the Golden Age of Tortall, mages were apprenticed at an early age. They went through years of training before they were even allowed to cast a spell." He raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid that we do not have the luxury of that kind of time, however. I will teach you as much as I can, as quickly as I can…and hope that our haste will not end up your undoing."

Ana bowed her head. "I have come to have a great respect for magic," Ana said quietly, "but I fear it as well. It is a glorious feeling, to feel the magic rushing through my veins, but it is a terrifying feeling as well, for I fear losing control of it," She looked up at Tohmas, her eyes bright. "I have not had a headache since you have started to teach me, but I remember that pain, and I fear its return."

Tohmas nodded. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, the Gift," he said solemnly, "you do well to fear it. Caution is the best policy when it comes to wielding any power, the Gift included." A frown appeared in the creases of his forehead, and he was quiet for a moment, mulling over some mysterious thought as he so often did. Ana always stayed silent in those moments when her teacher's eyes turned distant, wondering what it was that a man of such wisdom and power contemplated. She had never had the courage to ask his age, but she guessed it was much older than his bright hair suggested.

Then he smiled, the troubles on his face disappearing in a wealth of laugh lines. "Of course, I don't think the Gift had any idea what it was coming up against when it decided to flare up in your veins," his eyes twinkled. "I've never had a student so very determined to master their power in all my years…and I've been teaching for _many _years. Are all Thaylians as stubborn as you are?"

Ana blushed. "_Everyone _is stubborn in their own way, not just Thaylians." she muttered defensively. She was getting better at curbing her irritation when she struggled with controlling her Gift, but Tohmas was a keenly perceptive man. He always seemed to notice whenever she was getting fed up—no matter how hard she tried to hide it—and it never failed to put that amused glint in his gray eyes.

But though she blushed, Ana was secretly pleased at his teasing. She cherished her friendship with Tohmas and Lucas, glad that the two men had taken her under their wings. It made her situation a little less lonely, for though she was learning all she could about Tortall, she could not help but feel the outsider. She might have shared the Tortallian's Gift, but she could not share in the heritage that Lucas and Tohmas taught her about so lovingly. She was not of Tortall, with its mysterious Gods, strange creatures, and strict code of honor. She came from a land that had never felt the tang of magic, never imagined the existence of such fantastical things. Thaylians were a practical people, intent on prospering through trade, commerce, and imperial expansion. Though many of the peoples they had conquered retained their own folklore, the Citizens were a pragmatic folk, unwilling to believe anything they could not see with their own eyes.

In the time before falling asleep, Ana often mused at what her brother and sister would think of the strange land she found herself in. Marghi would probably roll her eyes and scoff at the idea of the Gift, but Ana rather thought that Darius might believe her. It was he, after all, who had regaled her from an early age with the stories of the foreign cultures he encountered.

She also wondered what Marghi and Darius were doing now, and whether her Mother had learned yet of her absence. She wondered how they would react to her disappearance. _Marghi will be in hysterics, _Ana thought, _And Darius will probably look for me. But what would he find? No one knows that the Tortallians have me, and even if they did, it is very unlikely they would send anyone after me. After all, as far as they know I'm still sick. I was practically on my deathbed before I left. _Maybe General Brooks wouldn't even mention her disappearance. Maybe he would simply say that she had died.

She avoided thinking about how her Mother would react if she found out that the Tortallian King had kidnapped her. She knew, though she pushed the knowledge away, that if it was ever discovered the Empress would declare war on Tortall. Such a move would be deadly for Tortall. From what she heard in the mess hall, Ana knew that Tortall was going to be hard-pressed enough to meet the threat from Scanra. They would never be able to defeat both Scanra and Thaylia.

But such thoughts were easy to push away, especially as distracted as she was by everything she was learning about Tortall. She did not want to think of its destruction—either the immanent threat from Scanra or the imagined one of the Empire—because the thought was too terrible to contemplate. Every day she spent in the Tortall increased her fascination and fondness for the strange new world she had encountered. _They want me to like it here, _she thought, as she stared at the ceiling one night. _Will has tried his hardest to make me feel comfortable, even introducing me to Lucas and Tohmas so they could fill my mind with thoughts of Tortall. Every time they introduce me to some new object , or story, or scrap of information, they look at my face to see how I will react. They have wanted me to like it here, _she thought, _and I do, though I know not why. _

One morning, a two weeks after she'd arrived at the Tortallian camp (she kept track by making marks on the curtain that separated her little corner from the rest of the king's tent with a bit of charcoal) she followed Lucas's lead to where a group of the King's Own were setting up for their daily training. To Ana's delight, she saw that they were assembling targets to practice archery. The round targets, with the circular bull's eye nestled in the middle of six consecutive rings, were delightfully similar to the targets that Ana had seen during the City's Mid-summer Carnival, when the people of the City came together to celebrate and showcase their talents. The archery contest, like the fencing tournament and the other displays of 'primitive' weaponry, was always a big draw. Ana smiled to herself as she remembered that day, two years ago, when she had disguised herself as a boy and entered the lists of contestants.

It had been Darius's idea originally. After watching her sulk when Mother had denied her request to take part in the festivities (by shooting off every apple on the Empress's favorite fruit tree) Darius had suggested that she simply wear his clothes for a day and hide her hair under a cap while she competed. He even procured her a pair of tinted glasses, to hide her distinctive eyes.

The smile on Ana's face broadened as she remembered her Mother handing her the second prize (Darius took first, but only because a stray wind had blown Ana's second arrow awry), completely oblivious that her daughter stood before her. Though she had figured it out later, when the dye that Darius had had Ana rub into her pale skin refused to wash out.

_At last, _Ana thought, _Something I _am _familiar with. _

Lucas was looking at her curiously, one eyebrow arched and arms akimbo. "And what, perchance, has put that happy grin on your face?" He asked.

"May I?" Ana asked, pointing at the targets. "I've missed archery," she said simply, the smile lingering on her face.

Lucas evaluated her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her skinny arms. Ana scowled at his scrutiny. _I may have been sick for a long time, but I've still got some strength in these arms._ _Besides, _she thought, _they always say 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. I survived the pain, and it has made me stronger than I ever was before. _ She knew her own strength these days. She had to, in order to use her Gift. _Yes, _Ana thought, _this contest will be easy. Let me show him by my actions, not the size of my arms._

"You are pretty short," Lucas said, a smirk hovering about his lips. "We would have to find a bow small enough for you."

"Why can't I use the bows that they are using?" Ana asked, gesturing to the longbows the Own men held. Lucas quirked his eyebrow at her again, but called one of his men over. The man trotted up to them, bowing when he stopped before them. When he straightened, Ana blinked, startled. A hideous scar marred the left side of his face, running from the top of his skull to the tip of his hard chin. He had only one eye. The other was hidden behind a patch, which nestled in the hollow where his eye should have been like a black hole.

"Ana," Lucas said, "this is Thaddus. He leads the Own's archers and oversees their training."

Ana curtsied, though she wobbled, startled by the reminder of the fact that she had no skirts to hinder her movements. _I have to give it to the Tortallians, these breeches are certainly more comfortable,_ she thought wryly.

"It's nice to make your acquaintance," she said, in her best imitation of Courtly manners.

Thaddus smiled at her. The scar pulled the left side of his lip down, so he seemed to sneer even as he smiled. "The Thaylian," he growled. "I've heard much of you…they say you have the Gift." he added, in that gruff voice.

Ana smiled at his bluntness, though she wasn't sure of her success. He was an intimidating man. "Tohmas has been teaching me of the Gift, yes," she said softly.

There was a short pause, and Ana felt the eyes of the Tortallians on her. She wondered, not for the first time and not for the last, what they thought about this red-haired foreigner in their midst.

Then Lucas broke the silence, "Ana would like to borrow a bow," he said, "In fact, perhaps we will both join you this morning. Make that two bows, and gauntlets too." He smiled at them both, a challenge in his grin. Ana found herself smiling back, and when she glanced over Thaddus was smiling his half-smile. "The men will want to see this," Thaddus said, and his single eye twinkled. He bowed again and jogged off, calling out to the men who had gathered in front of the targets.

Ana rolled up her sleeves, following in his wake. Lucas strode easily beside her, his arms swinging merrily as he whistled a cheerful tune. Anticipation thrummed through Ana's veins and she could feel her Gift humming in the corners of her mind, keeping perfect time with the beat of her heart.

Ten minutes later she stood in front of the target, her arms poised as she sighted down the straight length of the arrow. Time stood still as she breathed in deeply, letting go of her thoughts as she did when she meditated. The target seemed to loom large in her vision, growing as she adjusted her aim slightly. The air was perfectly still; no errant breeze would threaten her shot.

Ana let the arrow fly. The bowstring twanged against her gauntlets, snapping as the arrow launched itself into the air. She didn't bother to look and see where it landed; she had known its path before she let bowstring go. Instead she reached behind her, smoothly drawing another arrow and fitting in on the string. She did not pause when the King's Own sent up a ragged cheer—punctuated with the occasional groan—as men won or lost money. She drew the bowstring back, sighted, and loosed.

It was a smooth automatic motion, as second nature to her as walking or breathing. True, the Tortallian bow was shaped much differently than the shorter Thaylian bow she was accustomed to, but the bows still served the same purpose, and Ana had quickly adapted. After a few errant shots—_warm ups_, she thought, she soon had the hang of the differences in weight and balance. _In fact,_ she thought, as she loosed another shot, _I think I may prefer this Tortallian bow. _ Instead of reloading she lowered her bow, finally looking at the target.

Four arrows clustered near the center of the bull's eye. The last arrow had landed in the same exact spot as the one before it, splitting it neatly down the middle. Ana grinned at the target, happy that her skills had not deserted her.

Lucas thumped her on the back, his huge hands nearly knocking her over in his enthusiasm. "Amazing!" he chuckled, shaking his head. "Where in the world did you learn how to shoot? And with your left hand?"

Ana looked around at him and the Own men who had gathered round her to listen. "My brother taught me," she said, blushing under their stares. "I was always tagging after him, and eventually he caved in to my begging and taught me to shoot."

"So they have bows and arrows in Thaylia?" One of the Own asked. Ana smiled at the curiosity in his tone. "Yes, but there are more guns than bows. He taught me how to shoot a pistol as well," she shrugged, "but that's a different kind of shooting."

"Guns? Pistol?" Someone asked.

Ana frowned, uncertain how to explain the concept of guns to men who had never seen nor heard of one. "They are like bows," she began, uncertainly, "but they shoot little pellets of metal instead of arrows." The Own men—Lucas among them—frowned at her, clearly confused by her explanation. Ana looked at the ground, wondering how she could better explain.

She gasped suddenly, inspired. "Here!" she cried, holding out her hand. Without thought, she reached inside her to the place where her Gift lived, letting it lose on her body. Her Gift tingled at the tips of her fingers, and then she released it into the sand at her feet. A column of sand rose into the air, swirling around her extended hand. It seemed to pulse and coalesce for a moment, and then it solidified into the shape of a pistol in her grip. "Watch." She said, pointing the gun at the target where her arrows were clustered. She pulled the trigger of the sand-gun and a sand-bullet exploded outward from the muzzle. It whizzed through the air and hit the target with a violent explosion of sand. Ana's arm jerked with the recoil and she stumbled backwards, surprised at the force which she had unleashed.

She had not expected it to kick like a real gun, and neither had she expected it to blow a hole right through the target, leaving a jagged void where the bull's eye had been. She stared at the hole for a moment, then looked down at the sand pistol in her hand. As she watched, the sand disintegrated, pouring through her fingertips even as the magic slipped away from her.

She looked up and met the shocked visages of the King's Own.

No one made a sound as they stared at her.

Then Lucas laughed, his great booming laugh shattering the silence. Instantly the atmosphere cleared, as the King's Own relaxed. Or at least, some of them did. Others slipped away quietly, their faces troubled. Lucas slapped his hand on his knee, "Not one boring moment," he chuckled, turning to her. "Not _one_ since you've gotten here. You _do _know how to make an impression, you Thaylians."

Ana smiled uncertainly. "I didn't think it would actually act like a real gun," she said, sheepishly. "I guess I'm not yet used to using my Gift."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "If Thaylians have many of these _guns_ then I am glad I have not come into contact with one of them. I remember my grandfather telling me tales of those strange weapons, but I had never been able to picture it until this moment. As for your Gift," he continued, "Well, I don't have one myself, but I think that was certainly a nice little display of how you are coming along in your training." He paused, then added. "Will will be pleased, with your progress when he returns."

Ana looked at the ground again, a question poised on her lips.

And then—as if the mention of his name had caused his miraculous appearance—Will's familiar voice said, "I am indeed, Lucas."

Ana gasped, whirling around. There, seated quietly atop Darkness's back, was the King of Tortall. He looked down at her—his face impassive as usual—as she met his sapphire gaze. Her mouth gapped open as she took in the two other horses that stood either side on either of him. On Will's right hand was Marcus, his handsome face flashing her a perfect grin. She could do nothing but stare at them for a moment, her surprise naked on her face.

How long had they been there?

"That was some pretty impressive _shooting_," Marc said. His beautiful eyes twinkled and he winked at her. She felt the blood rushing to her face as he confirmed that they had been there long enough, indeed.

She must have been concentrating so hard that she had never noticed their approach! And she wasn't the only one. Lucas had started as well, and the men of the Own looked as surprised as she did. But they quickly recovered from their shock and sent up a loud cry, "The King has returned!"

~ ~:~ ~


	15. Horses and Heros

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Ha ha! Lazarus has risen from the dead! Thank the Gods for Document Recovery, Spybot, and obscenely tech-savvy siblings. This chapter is dedicated to my awesome brother, who somehow found the time (between dealing with a newborn baby, working full-time, and going to grad school--I swear that man must never sleep) to save his technologically challenged sister from the perils of the virtual world. Bro--you rock.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fourteen: Horses and Heroes

Lucas ran forward, greeting his King with a friendly beating on the shoulder as Will dismounted from Darkness's back. Will winced, and Ana had to stifle a giggle as he squinted up at the Lord Commander of the King's Own. "Some greeting," he grumbled, good-naturedly.

Lucas grinned. "I see you arrived in time to witness the wonder that is your little Thaylian."

Will smiled at Lucas then glanced at her, his smile lingering. She was still clutching the longbow in her right hand, and she could feel blood staining her cheeks red in embarrassment. But then she remembered her pride, and she straightened her neck and threw back her shoulders as she made her way over to him. She handed the bow to Lucas and bowed to the King of Tortall, the bow that a Thaylian princess would give to her equal. _It will be my little secret_, the thought, as she straightened. Then she said, "Welcome back, your Highness."

"I asked you to call me Will," he said, still smiling. "It is only one syllable, not very hard to remember. Lucas does it very well."

"I never!" Lucas chimed in, with perfect timing, "You'll always be the boy-King to me!"

Ana dissolved into giggles; unable to stop herself at the look on Will's face. He crossed his arms, scowling in mock-anger, "You are one to talk, Lucas of Silverlee, as you never aged past a score of years."

The men of the King's Own chuckled along with their leaders. They gathered around the three horses, eager for news of their journey. Will held up his hands to them. "I return from my journey with good news, but I'm afraid it will have to wait until I can address everyone at once. Why don't you crack open some of those extra barrels of ale and have the cooks whip up a hearty meal? I will tell all at lunch in two hours." He paused, smiling as the Own whistled and cheered in appreciation. "I will see you there," he finished, and the crowd dispersed as the men left to quickly finish up whatever they needed to do before the noon meal.

Soon it was just Ana, Lucas, and the two horses with their riders. Marcus, Ana noted with a flash of disappointment, left with the men of the King's Own, leading his horse away as he went off to do whatever it was he did as Spymaster.

_Only one rider, _Ana corrected herself, noticing for the first time that the third horse was rider-less. But once the horse had caught her gaze, Ana couldn't look away. A calm mahogany eye looked back at her, its gaze intelligent and alert. The mare was a beauty of a horse, a reddish roan with a mane and tale of dark hair that threw red reflections when the sunlight hit it. She stood about seventeen hands tall, her legs long and supple, her body made for speed.

Ana found herself standing next to the mare, her hand outstretched. The horse held her gaze for a moment more, then lowered her beautiful head and blew on her hand, nudging it with her nose. Ana ran a hand over the soft hair of her long face then, tentatively, she stroked her shoulder.

"Her name is Firedance," Will said, quietly. "I brought her as a gift for you."

Ana looked up at the Tortallian King in wonder. "I could not accept such a gift," she said. She was proud that there was no hint of reluctance in her statement. "Look at her—she's far too valuable to simply give away."

Firedance butted her head against Ana's shoulder, and Ana sighed as she turned her attention once again to the horse.

"I think that Firedance would disagree," Will said, amusement in his eyes. "You too will suit each other. Would you like to ride her?"

Ana nodded, made speechless by her combined gratitude and excitement. She stepped closer to Firedance, letting the mare feel her touch as she moved around her flank. Her eyes ran over the saddle and once again she felt a blush rising to her cheeks as she noted how perfectly it suited her horse, and how beautifully it had been made. Then she put her hands on the horn and mounted smoothly, setting her weight into the stirrups. Firedance stood perfectly still, but her muscles were tight, her legs poised for movement.

She looked over at Will and found him already on Darkness's back. The black stallion pawed the ground impatiently, snorting as he tossed his dark head. "Ladies first," Will said, grinning at her. He swept his arm out, gesturing that she should lead the way.

Ana grinned back. "Shall we run, Firedance?" Ana asked, thumping her heels against the mare's sides. Firedance leapt into a smooth canter, threading her way around the edges of the camp until she broke free into the desert. Ana let the mare have her head, reveling in the feeling of the world flying away beneath Firedance's hooves. She grinned fiercely as she felt the air rushing past her face, cooling the skin that was made hot by the mid-morning sun.

Will and Darkness kept pace beside her like a dark shadow.

After a few more moments of exhilarating movement, Ana reigned Firedance in. She didn't want to push the horse too hard—she had just returned from Gods-only-knew how long a journey. _And besides_, Ana thought as they slowed to a stately walk, _the desert sun is hard on both people and horses. _

Will reigned in beside her, and Ana felt a blush rising to her cheeks yet again as she watched him watching her. "I was very impressed with your little display earlier," he said, as they jogged back toward the camp, "I had not hoped that you would progress so quickly with your Gift."

"Tohmas is a good teacher," Ana replied.

"Have you—" Will hesitated. "Have your headaches returned?" he asked, quietly.

Ana shook her head, looking past Firedance's ears at the low hills in the distance. "I have not had an attack since…that day."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of the two horses making their way through the desert sand. Ana wished that she could know what the Tortallian King was thinking; she wished that he would tell her why she was here and how she could help this country that she was coming to love.

_He probably doesn't know either, _she finally decided. _I guess we will both just have to wait and see what the Gods have planned._

~:~

Ana had not forgotten the return of the handsome Marcus when the King gave her Firedance and she was secretly delighted when he was seated next to her during lunch.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced," Marc said, as he slid into the spot next to her. His clean, fresh scent washed over her, overwhelming her senses. "I'm Lord Marcus, the King's Spymaster…but you can call me Marc, of course."

Ana found her voice fast enough to respond, saying playfully, "Is it _proper_ in Tortall to introduce oneself? In Thaylia introductions are _properly _done by a third party." _Or at least, _she amended to herself, _when an Empress's daughter is introduced to any one. _

Marc leaned toward her, whispering conspiratorially, "Actually, it _is_ considered a bit forward, but I've always been one to live life on the edge." His lovely smell wafted over her, titillating her to no small degree. He leaned back again, grinning, and crossed his arms. "Besides," he continued, "we both know very well who the other is, all that was lacking was the formalities."

Ana smiled shyly. "I've always preferred to skip the formalities, myself," she said. "So tell me, Mr. Spymaster, what have you been about so mysteriously? The King's Own has been talking of nothing else since you left."

Marc shook a finger at her, his smile taking on a mischievous edge. "You wouldn't have me steal Will's thunder would you?"

Ana wondered what, exactly, it was to 'steal thunder'—she guessed that he could not mean it literally—but the thought was driven from her mind when Marc continued.

"And as I've heard it—and, believe me, I'm _very _good at getting information—you've been a frequent topic of conversation yourself." He smirked.

"What do they say of me?" She asked seriously, her face betraying her anxiety and uncertainty.

"Well," Marc began, "I heard from one man that you had two horns like a goat and an extra eye in the middle of your pale little forehead…but I'd already seen you so I knew that one couldn't be true."

Ana couldn't help herself, she laughed, though a distant part of her mind noted that Marc had avoided actually answering her question.

Marc cocked his head to the side, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face. "You are beautiful when you laugh," he said.

Ana blinked, the compliment taking her completely by surprise. Blood rushed to her face as she stared at him. Marc's handsome smile widened, his eyes glittering, "Though I think I prefer your blushes, seeing as they are in such frequent supply."

Ana could not for the life of her think of a response. She would have given anything at that moment for her sister's coy coolness around men. _I may not be dying from my Gift anymore_, she thought, _but I feel as if I might die of embarrassment before too long. _

The moment stretched on. Ana found herself leaning toward Marc, drawn toward those smiling brown eyes.

And then Will stood up abruptly.

Ana jumped; she had completely forgotten that she sat in the mess hall, at the right hand of the King. While they talked, it had seemed as if everyone else around them had fallen away, leaving Marc and Ana in their own private world.

Will held up his hands and the clamor of silverware and conversation died instantly. The King of Tortall looked around at the expectant faces of his men, commanding their complete attention. Then he smiled, and his face was transformed. "I have good tidings for you on this day. Marcus's spies have informed us that Li Dubyn will unable to move his forces across the mountains before the spring thaw."

A smattering of cheers rose from the Own's men, but Will waved his hand and they quieted. "Tonight we will celebrate, but tomorrow we will ride. We leave at dawn for Corus. We have been given a blessing that the snows came early this year, but we will have to make use of that break to prepare ourselves for the coming of spring, and that war that will accompany it. Li Dubyn will not be inactive during the winter months and neither shall we. Tortall must be ready to meet him when he comes—and so we shall. We are a nation that has faced far greater enemies than the one that the _imp_ presents. We have fought impossible battles and won—our blood is too strongly tied to this land to give it up without a proper fight—"

Will's words were drowned by the cheers of the Own.

The men stood as one, cheering and applauding. Then someone began singing and suddenly they were all joined in a song, dancing and reeling as they celebrated the good news. Ana felt a smile pulling at her lips as she watched them from her place at the table. She met Lucas's grinning gaze, happy to share in this moment with the people of Tortall. The tight apprehension she had seen on the faces of the King's Own had vanished, replaced by their collective certainty in their people. They knew exactly where they had come from and where they were going to go in the future—even if it was the bloody field of battle.

Ana wished she could feel the same, herself.

She looked around at the faces of the King's Own, and suddenly felt very lonely. All around her, the men celebrated a heritage that she could not share. Her own heritage was very different. _Or is it? _She wondered. _Who was my father and where did he come from?_

Standing next to her, Marc leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'll be traveling with Will to Corus, from there we will be able to better examine our position."

"I heard tell of a Tortallian _city_ when I was at the garrison at Ithsma." Ana said, remembering, "I used sit at my window and look at the hills that led to Tortall and wonder what a Tortallian city would look like."

"Then I shall be happy to have the pleasure of seeing your face when you first look upon it," Marc said, his handsome face lighting up as he laughed.

Ana smiled back at him, suddenly filled with happy expectation. The loneliness of the previous moment was forgotten as she looked into Marc's warm eyes.

~:~

Ana lay awake, staring at the ceiling of the tent as she listened to the quiet sound of Will's steady breathing and thought about Marc.

She didn't know _what_ to think about Marc.

Ana had seen beautiful people before. It had been impossible not to, growing up as she had in Thaylia's Imperial Court. Beauty was something that she had admired in the distance, but rarely interacted with—a result of the mutual loathing between Ana and the Courtiers. They had hated her because she was different, with her red hair and violet eyes. She had hated them for judging her and for being such pompous, sniveling idiots collectively.

And Marc was _nothing_ like the courtiers she had known. Marc was not like anyone she had ever known.

Never before had she met someone who was so very _attractive. _

Ana desperately wished that she could talk to Marghi right now. She wished she could talk about it at all, to anyone. Marghi had had many suitors over the years; she was familiar with the ways of romance. _She could tell me what to do, to say. _

She fell asleep dreaming of his smell.

~ ~:~ ~


	16. Testy

A Note from Nessa'fur:

There seems to be some confusion about Ana's "secret" in the last chapter. The secret is merely that Ana knows that her bow to Will is the bow (in Thaylia) that displays equality between two parties. No one in Tortall would know this, because they are unfamiliar with Thaylian court etiquette. Ana is basically just reveling a little in the fact that--despite all that she does not know about Tortall--there is one thing that she knows (or, at least, that she thinks that only she knows, which is all that matters, whether or not it is correct) that the Tortallians do not: namely, that she is the daughter of an Empress. It is her way of thumbing her nose at Will for keeping secrets from her.

To answer a few other questions that have come up...and clarify something that I think I got wrong earlier. First off, The Yamani Islands and the Copper Isles are still independent nations--largely because of their powerful trade capacities. Cartak is under Imperial (Thaylian) jurisdiction, though that is really only on paper--the Empire has a puppet King on the throne, but the Cartaki are very good at playing the game of politics to retain their autonomy, so they are pretty much left to run things on their own as long as they don't interfere with trade and commerce. The Capital City--where Ana is from--lies to the south and east on the Cartaki Continent (I think I might have said it was on a different continent earlier, but that is just not right). The Thaylians pretty much rule the entire continent, as well as the eastern portion of the Tortallian continent. North of Tortall is wilderness. The Great Southern Desert has expanded over the years, and now streches from the Southern Wall all the way north almost to Corus. It also took over the little stretch between the River Drell and the River Olerun, which used to be hills, but is now mostly sand-dunes.

As to why the Thaylians have technology and Tortallians do not...well, my explanation for that doesn't appear until _very_ late in the story, so I'll whet your appetite by saying that it has to do with the fact that Tortallians can utilize magic while Thaylians cannot. One of the reasons why Cartak, Tusaine, Galla...etc. fell to Imperial expansion was because they had lost the use of the Gift over the years.

As one reviewer pointed out, the Conte's have indeed been a very exceptional line of rulers. They have held the throne throughout the intervening years mainly because they have been so very fierce about defending it. Over the years, they lost the allegiance of many of the outlying fiefs and the desert tribes...because, though they were eager to retain the throne, they were not necessarily the most competent of rulers. Tortallian rule is currently strongest in the area north of Corus, in the still-fertile country between the River Olerun and the Grimwold Mountains (Sadly, the City of the Gods is now a ruin, and no longer a haven of magic.) though they still have some power over the coastal hills and the fiefs there. The fiefdoms of Tortall have shifted and changed throughout the intervining years, though a few of the more powerful ones are still around. Don't have my notes on them though, so I can't tell you which at the moment.

Will took the Tortallian throne five years back, at the tender age of twenty, after his father's sudden and unexpected death. He hasn't had much time for dating since then, being as he has been so busy ruling--which he wasn't exactly prepared for, because he did not expect to have to take the throne for many more years. There _is _an heir, however, because Will's elder sister has lots of children (twelve, to be exact) and the oldest boy currently holds the title of 'heir'.

As for descendants of Alanna and George...yes, they did survive the Scanran Wars (also known as the Imp Wars). And if you stick around you might just get to meet some of them.

Now, enough background noise. Back to the story! Oh, and if you are enjoying it (or not) please drop me a review! I've put a lot of thought and energy into this little tale and feedback is very, very appreciated. Thank you to the awesome dares-to-dream, Mystique, LadyKnight0207, Dom-Loves-Kel, Navigator101, and sarisbistarfire, who are so great about reviewing. You guys rock my socks off. This chapter is dedicated to you.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifteen: Testy

Suffice it to say, the King of Tortall was not in a very good mood.

War loomed on the horizon, like the great clouds of a storm gathering in the distance. He could feel the weight of it hanging over his land, like a dark shadow. He had been able to chase away the shadows from the minds of his men, but he could do nothing about the worry that lingered in his own. _There is so much to be done, and so little time left to do it all in. _He could feel the press of time on his shoulders, weighing him down.

If he was the sort of man who prayed, he might have chosen a God and started talking, but Will had long since given up on the Gods of old. If indeed they had ever walked in the world of mortal men then that time was long past. Will had no reason to expect that to change anytime soon, so he did not waste his time begging for the intervention of the Gods. He would have to face this threat without any help save that which he could scrounge up himself.

But it was not the coming confrontation with Scanra that made him scowl and snap his orders to his ever loyal men, who were not used to such rude treatment from their King.

No, it was her.

It was the way she smiled at Marcus.

Will had experienced the bitter tang of jealousy before and it was as raw and stinging as ever. His rational mind reminded him that he had no cause for jealously, that he had no exclusive right to Ana's attention. In fact, he had stained their relationship from the start by stealing her away from the bed where she slept at the Thaylian outpost. True, he _had_ saved her life, but he had still done her wrong by taking her without her consent. He could give her anything in his power, and it would never make up for what he had done to her. It was a blemish that he could not erase, and it angered him to know it.

Grudgingly, Will acknowledged that Ana could not be accused of singling Marc out in her friendly and open treatment of him. She was a naturally affable person, making friends where ever she went. Lucas and Tohmas both thought very highly of her, as evidenced by the easy way they interacted with her. And she already had half of the men of the King's Own charmed. _Though the other half is torn between hating her and being intimidated by her, _he acknowledged to himself.

But he did not feel about Ana's relationship with his men as he did about her relationship with Marc.

That relationship was a double-edged sword.

After all, Marc _was_ his brother.

He knew, in the distant recesses of his envy-ridden mind, that he had no right to resent his brother's and Ana's mutual attraction. They were both, after all, very extraordinary people. Marcus had grown up far from Corus, on Yamani Islands. His mother had been a Yamani noblewoman that his father had met while on a diplomatic visit.

Will's father had been a notorious ladies' man, though—by some trick of fate or the Gods—his promiscuity rarely produced any results. Will's mother, the old King's wife, had born only two children many years apart. She had died shortly after giving birth to Will, for he had come late in her life, long after she had given up the hope of bearing another child. The King's lechery had not gone unnoticed by either her or the general population, but, as nothing and no one ever came of it, everyone was content to look the other way.

And then, when Will had been fourteen, Marcus had shown up in Corus one day, claiming to be the son of the King. Will's father had accepted him into the family without question, joyous to discover that he had not only one son, but two. He was an old man by then, content to dote upon his children as he ruled the kingdom with the ease of many years experience. Tortall had been in a relatively peaceful era; the Thaylian Wars had ended with an uneasy truce between the two nations, but, after the long war, both sides had been content to let the borders lay were they lay and let each other live in peace.

Will had gained a brother instantly in Marcus. They were of nearly exactly the same age, and found, after a period of adjustment, that they many shared pleasures. He had found in Marcus a great companion—some one near his own age who could challenge him in swordplay and games of wit, someone he could jest with and also share the deepest secrets of his heart—and who could share the secrets of his own in return. Neither ever forgot that—by an accident of birth—Will was the heir as Marc, a bastard, could never be, but they were able to transcend that in their mutual desire to serve Tortall. Between them there was trust and respect, the result of many years of friendship, of brotherhood.

He thought back on those blissful years, when he had been coming of age in his Kingdom. He had known, in he distant recesses of his mind, that he would someday have to step into his father's shoes and take over the ruling of Tortall, but that day had been in the vague and uncertain future, and he had been content to live in the moment. He and Marc had spent hours dodging about each other with wooden practice swords and running about, disguised, through the streets of Corus with their friend, Illieno. It had been a carefree time, so very different from the times he found himself in now.

He knew it was childish of him, but he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed by Marc's flirtation with Ana.

_I have no right to be jealous, _he reminded himself, as he watched Marc riding side-by-side with Ana. He could not hear their words, but he could see the way she smiled and laughed at his narration. He wondered what they spoke of and if she would be as attentive if he were the one speaking the words.

_War is on the horizon, and all I can think about is the way her hair looks when the sunlight falls on it. _Will sighed, wrenching his gaze away from the apparently-happy couple. There was really no need to torture himself that way, he admonished himself angrily, as he jogged along on Darkness's back. The stallion could feel his tension; his muscles were as rigid as Will's own, as poised as if they were riding into battle. Will had to keep a tight hand on the reigns to keep him in line.

Ana's happy laughter drifted to his ears, rippling across the sounds of the Own riding.

His frowned darkly, leaning suddenly low on Darkness's back. The horse responded instantly to his silent command, leaping seamlessly into a steady canter. Darkness's hooves pounded beneath him as he raced ahead of the column of men. He let the horse go; the Own would catch up with them eventually. Right now he needed to run. Perhaps if he rode hard and fast enough he could outrun the feelings that churned inside of him, wounding him with their sharp edges.

Besides, the Own was moving too slowly for his taste anyway.

~:~

Ana watched out of the corner of her eye as Will suddenly spurred Darkness into a gallop, the movement distracting her from her conversation with Marc. She saw so little of the King these days, despite the fact that she still slept in his tent. He was always gone when she woke in the morning and pulled back her curtain and he seldom came to ride by her during the day. His time was spent conferring with his men, riding out with scouts, and the daily demands of kingship.

_He does not look very happy these days, _she thought, watching as he and Darkness disappeared in a swirl of dust. _But who could blame him? I do not envy his position…it is not an easy thing to be King. _ She wondered what thoughts lay behind his stern face, what it was that so preoccupied him. _Is it only the war with Scanra that makes him scowl so? _

Something told her that it was not.

But then Marcus's words intruded again upon her reverie and she turned her attention back to him, her worry about Will forgotten.

He was telling her of the legend of Keladry of Mindelan, the first lady-knight to follow in the ground-breaking footsteps of Alanna the Lioness (Ana had slyly tried to wheedle tales of the Lioness from Marcus, but he was just as closed-mouthed on the subjects as the rest of them. It made Ana want to scream with frustration, but she contented herself with learning about the Lioness indirectly, by learning about the history of Tortall as a whole.)

He had just finished telling her of how Keladry had finally achieved her knighthood, despite all of the obstacles set before her, including a probationary year that no other page had been required to have. He was a good story-teller, making her laugh with his witty commentary and holding her in suspense during the most exciting parts. She couldn't help but be easy with him, for he was such an open and charming person.

It made her happy that he often rode beside her, for his conversation made the long hours of riding pass swiftly and distracted her from the saddle sores that scraped horribly against her rough breeches. She had been many years out of the saddle, and though she still retained her ability as a horsewomen, her muscles had not yet become used to the constant exertion of riding.

Worse than the saddle sores was the way Marc always seemed to be there to witness her unsteady dismounts. He was the last person she wanted to see when she was hobbling about because of her raw posterior. _Constant embarrassment, _Ana thought,_ the price I pay for the pleasure of his company. _

As the days wore on, they passed out of the desert into the hills that Ana had gazed at out her window in Ithsma. They followed the River Olerun as it widened from the narrow trickle that had flowed into the oasis where they had camped into a swiftly moving brook. Groves of trees sprouted next to the water source, mingling in spots with the short, tough grass that covered the hill country. The terrain was fairly easy on the horses and they made good time, though the army traveled much more slowly than Firedance and Ana could have alone. _Of course, _Ana thought wryly to herself one day, _I'm not sure I could travel much faster even if I wanted to. _ Sometimes it seemed that with every heave of her horse Ana was going to fall off. Mercifully, they usually stopped early.

In the evenings, Ana continued to practice her magic with Tohmas. She progressed slowly, hindered by her exhausted body. Sometimes the magic came very easily to her fingertips and she cast the spells that Tohmas taught her with ease, but all too often the power would slip away from her, igniting her frustration as she struggled to hold even the simplest of spells in her mind. Tohmas was patient, as always, but Ana could see the lines of worry that creased her teacher's brow when she failed, once again, to control her power.

Between the long days of riding and her lessons in magic, Ana was thoroughly exhausted, body, mind and soul. Every night she fell into her bedroll in the King's tent and fell asleep instantly, too tired even to dream.

"Today we're going on a little ride," Tohmas told Ana one evening. He smiled as her face fell.

"More riding?" she whined. "I feel as if my legs are permanently bowed from sitting in the saddle all day! Couldn't we just stay here in camp?"

Tohmas shook his head, his blond curls bouncing as he smiled amusedly at her. "You are tired, yes?" he asked quietly.

Ana shrugged, her face petulant, "Its not that I don't enjoy riding, I just wish that these blasted saddle-sores would stop tormenting me every time I mount Firedance."

Tohmas raised an eyebrow. "Why haven't you healed yourself?" he asked, wondering. "Are you so fond of pain?"

Ana stared at him. "I didn't know I could!" she cried, suddenly excited by the prospect. "You can cast spells upon yourself?"

"Of course," Tohmas said, shaking his head. "I cannot believe I have neglected to tell you that. I have had you cast spells of protection around yourself, haven't I? Why would you not be able to heal yourself as well?"

"I never thought of it," Ana muttered, then she said, "I suppose it will tire me out even more than usual." She sighed.

Tohmas nodded approvingly. "That is right. It is still your strength that you use, even if you are using it to heal yourself. But tonight I will heal your sores, as you will need all your strength for later." He leaned forward, putting his hand on her shoulder. He closed his eyes, and Ana felt his Gift passing between them as it washed over her, seeking out the raw skin of her inner thighs with its tingling, healing touch. She could feel the strength returning to her limbs as well, sweeping away the fatigue that had been her constant companion.

~:~

"What is it we are doing?" Ana asked curiously, when he had finished healing her.

"You'll see when we get there," Tohmas said, mysteriously. She would know soon enough, let her practice her patience in the mean time. "Now go saddle up Firedance, and tell a hostler to bring Charm." Tohmas laughed as she scurried off, almost overturning Marc, who was passing.

Strangely Marc didn't grumble. Instead he simply shook his head and called something to Ana. She answered back over her shoulder.

Tohmas was amazed. Only a few weeks ago Ana had been a stranger to all. She now was well acquainted with the men, and they treated her like an honorary member of the Own.

Marc strode over to him. "She sure is something isn't she?" There was a distant look in his eyes.

Tohmas laughed. "What were you thinking when you said that?"

Marc grinned mischievously, 'You wouldn't want to know. I might shock you too much." He winked at Tohmas and sauntered off.

Ana came trotting back, Firedance and Charm in tow_. She learns fast_, Tohmas thought watching her approach, _She's only been here for a few weeks and she's well on her way to being a mage_. Tohmas accepted the reigns from Ana. _She sure _is_ something_.

They mounted, steering the beasts away from the camp. When they'd ridden far enough that the camp was out of sight Tohmas stopped. He dismounted and sat cross-legged on the ground. Ana sat next to him, letting the horses roam; they'd come when they were called.

Without thinking Tohmas slipped into meditation. From outside his body he watched as Ana followed his example. He waited while she found the level of his mind. In this state two powerful mages could communicate telepathically.

_Why did you bring me out here?_ Ana asked.

_So you can show me what you've learned without endangering anyone in the camp_, he replied. _What have you learned?_

He felt Ana's mind slip away from his. Slowly he came out of meditation. Ana sat beside him, her eyes still closed. Suddenly the air glowed purple and they were surrounded by a globe of purple fire.

"The protection spell, good..." Tohmas murmured.

The spell dropped away. Suddenly it seemed they were surrounded by an army of men, their strange weapons turned on the two seated on the ground.

"Illusions..."

The army vanished. Twenty feet in front of them a piece of sand suddenly exploded, showering them with hot sand.

"...Offensive tactics..."

Ana touched his arm. Instantly a flood of magic poured into him, first analyzing his small hurts, then healing them.

"...and healing. Good, you've remembered all I taught you." The glow around Ana suddenly vanished. Tohmas smiled, "You even remembered to stop when you feel your Gift drained to its' limits."

Ana sighed wearily. "Why is it your Gift always lasts so much longer than mine? Mine is bigger."

It was true, her Gift _was_ bigger. "Because I have had a lot more practice and a lot more experience than you have. You will grow stronger in time."

"I'm so tired."

"You did a lot, just now. Why don't we head back, before you fall asleep?"

Ana laughed, and wearily mounted Firedance. They took it slowly back to the camp. Tohmas stabled Firedance and Charm while Ana headed towards her tent.

As he left the stable he ran into Lucas. "I feel a sort of pride for her, don't you?' Tohmas asked the Lord Commander.

"Yes," Lucas smiled, "every time a word comes out of her mouth I cannot help but be amazed by her."

Tohmas laughed, "I know exactly how you feel."

~ ~:~ ~


	17. Rescue, or Save her, you idiot!

Chapter Sixteen: Rescue, or "Save her, you idiot!"

That night the attack came.

There was no warning. Under the cover of darkness the enemy was virtually invisible. The lookouts had no indication of danger until the first of their number disappeared.

A horn was sounded, alerting the camp. Two blasts meant spidrens! Immediately, heavy-eyed soldiers started pouring from their tents, grabbing whatever weapons were nearest.

Ana woke the second time the horns sounded. She could hear the King moving about in the tent, and the shouts of the Own outside. The King was gone by the time she'd pulled on some clothes, and pulled back her curtain.

Curious, she ventured outside. Catching a passing servant by the arm she shouted, "What is happening?"

"Spidrens!" The servant shrieked, snatching free from her grip. "Hide while you still can!" he bolted off.

Ana turned in the opposite direction of the crazed man. Perhaps she could help magically. She checked her Gift. It was barely there; it wouldn't be much use at all. She kept going; maybe she could help Tohmas somehow.

The sounds of fighting got quieter as she moved towards the healer's tent. Suddenly, out of nowhere a huge creature crawled out of the tent just in front of her. It was much taller than her and hairy all over. It also had eight legs like a kind of mutant spider. But it wasn't until it turned towards her that she realized the true horror of the creature. It had two heads, two human heads. _No_, Ana thought queasily,_ it's eating one of the heads_. She could see the body of the Own man beneath the furry limbs.

When the creature, _it must be a spidren_, saw her it dropped the head it had been eating. It started to move toward her, its blood-stained mouth grinning evilly.

Ana stood frozen. The pure horror of such a creature rooted her to the ground, mouth agape. The beast slowly advanced on her, taking its time; it knew she was defenseless.

"Ana!" the shout came from behind her, and it knocked Ana out of her paralysis. She stumbled backward gaining a few seconds for herself. She clawed at her magic, but all the spells Tohmas had taught her had escaped from her mind. So she turned and ran, which was a mistake.

The spidren leaped on her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She landed on the ground with the thing on top of her.

She looked up to see its head lowering towards her, teeth bared in an evil grimace, then abruptly the head just disappeared. The body was still moving, convulsing on top of her own, and then it was knocked aside.

A face swam up in her vision, but it was hard to see, and there was something all over her own face.

"Here, love, wipe your face." Somebody handed her a rag and she wiped the sticky liquid off her face. With a rush of nausea she realized it was spidren blood.

Ana looked up again and recognized Marc standing over her.

"Blasted thing almost got you," he growled, kneeling beside her. His face was worried. "Are you hurt?"

Ana smiled, feebly. "Only my pride."

"I thought for a moment..." he faltered. "Spidrens can be dangerous."

Ana shivered, "So I learned."

Marc looked at her thin shirt. "You must be freezing," he said, handing her his cloak. Gratefully she wrapped it around her.

"How did you find me?" Ana asked, looking away from his beautiful eyes.

"I saw you walking in this direction. I thought I should follow you in case you got in trouble." He grinned, "I'm glad I did."

"Me too," Ana murmured, glancing at the spidren body. A shutter ran through her.

Marc pulled her to her feet. "The battle should be over now. Let's find you a place to rest."

Ana nodded, allowing Marc to put his arm around her to support her. As they made their way past the tents, she had to focus on keeping her feet moving, distracted by how good it felt to have Marc's arm about her.

"Thank you," Ana said, softly, "I've never been so glad to see anyone."

Marc stopped, and turned towards her. She studied his boot tops; they were caked with dirt. "Ana," he whispered. "Ana look at me."

She looked up as his face lowered towards hers. His kiss came slow and soft, and when he finally lifted his head she was breathless. She wondered if she would swoon.

"Are you sure you want to sleep in Will's tent tonight?" Marc asked her searching her face for an answer.

Ana smiled slowly, her face lighting up with pleasure. "I think I'd rather sleep somewhere else."

~:~

The morning shed light to the night's battle. There were not many casualties, which was very good considering what could have befallen the Own.

Will sent scouts out to locate and exterminate any surviving spidrens. Most of the King's Own were weary from the fight, so he declared a holiday to rest and recover from wounds. Then he instructed the servants to prepare him a bath.

He had just been about to settle in for a nice scrub when Lucas found him. "Will," Lucas said, completely unabashed at disturbing his bath. "I want to talk to you about Ana."

Will sighed, "Can this wait until I'm clothed?"

Lucas shook his head. "No one will disturb us while your bathing, and I think this should stay between you and I."

Will was surprised at Lucas's serious tone. He nodded for his commander to continue.

"She was attacked last night by a spidren. She'd drained her magic earlier yesterday and she was defenseless. If Marc hadn't happened by, she'd be dead now." Lucas paused, "I think she should be taught how to defend herself."

"What do you mean, Lucas?"

"I mean with weapons. If she gets stuck without her magic in the future and she–"

Will frowned, "You do realize what you're doing don't you? Women don't train in combat anymore."

"Yes Will I know," Lucas studied his feet, "It's just that...The past few weeks I've had this dream. I see you, Ana, everyone dead, and our people in chains. Then the Lioness appears. You know, she looks just like Ana, but different. In my dream she glares at me and says, 'Train her you idiot!'" Lucas glanced up. "I think the Gods are telling me to train the girl."

Will stared at him, his mind racing. "Lucas," he said slowly, "if you want to train Ana I give you my blessing. Now will you let me finish my bath? I don't see how that was so important that no one else could hear about it. Sometimes I think you're a strange man, Lucas of Silverlee."

Lucas backed out of the tent, stuttering his thanks. Will tried to enjoy the last hint of warmth in his bath, but he couldn't concentrate on the water_. Ana was attacked by a spidren last night, _he thought, _and it was Marc, not I, who saved her from harm. _For a moment, the jealousy twisted through his gut, but it drained away from him even as the heat drained from his bath water. It was replaced by a sad sort of weariness. Ana had made her choice, but it rankled with him.

After all, Marc _was_ his father's son.

_He has been with his share of women, _Will thought. _And this is not even the first time that he and I have cast our eyes in the same direction, so why does it bother me so much more this time?_

Perhaps his unease was caused by his dreams, where he looked into the faces of his people as they marched, chained, through the streets of his city. Where he saw Ana lying in a heap on the floor, in a familiar room that might have been anywhere in the palace, red blood pooling around her on the floor and mingling with her equally red hair.

And then she would appear, her violet eyes wise and serious; her smile twisted with secret irony. "Save her, you idiot!" She said, scowling at him fiercely.

_ Can it be just a coincidence that I've had exactly the same dream as Lucas_?

~ ~:~ ~


	18. A Deal Struck

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm always so eager to update and see your reactions, so its always gratifying to know you enjoyed (or didn't) each little installment. I have to admit, the reason I try to update daily is two-fold: first, because I know what it is like to get into a fanfiction and have to wait and wait and wait for another chapter and wondering always if the author will update or not (Rose Zemlya, why, WHY did you abandon The Legend of Zelda: Reconciliation?!) and also because...I'm WAY ahead of you in the story (Its very close to being FINISHED...and I already know everything that needs to happen, which is over half the battle) and I can't wait for you to catch up with me. Alas, this means that I know that you won't get to find out what has been happening in Thaylia for a long...long while (some readers have been curious) but, since Ana doesn't know either, I feel like it just wouldn't fit the flow to stick in a purely informational scene about what's going on there (nothing too exciting...yet). I know you are all curious about what happened during the Scanran Wars and about what is going on in Thaylia and why the Gods stopped hanging out in Tortall and if there are going to be any guest appearances from familiar and beloved characters...but I have to take a leaf out of Tohmas's book and say, "Patience! You will know when the Gods will it."

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Seventeen: A Deal Struck

The next day the Own were on the move again. Ana still hadn't recovered from Tohmas's 'test' and the night that followed, but she was strong enough to sit in the saddle. Harder to recover from was the memory of that horrible beast that had attacked her. _How can such terrible creatures exist? _ Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear Marc approaching from behind.

"Are you imaging yourself back at that _City_ you talk so much about?" he asked.

"Huh?" Ana focused her eyes on him. When she realized who it was a smile danced across her face, and she blushed fiercely. "What did you say?" she stuttered, suddenly shy, "I didn't hear you."

"You were a thousand leagues away. I hated to bring you back."

"I was thinking about that thing last night…that _spidren._ There aren't any animals like that in Thaylia."

Marc laughed. "They aren't animals, and for a long time there weren't any of them in Tortall either."

Ana glanced at him curiously, but he didn't go on. "If they aren't animals what are they? And why weren't there any in Tortall?"

"They're called Immortals, but I'm not really the one you should ask. Johona knows a lot more about them than I do. He has studied the Immortals War."

"The Immortals War?"

"Ask Johona." Marc turned and pointed to him, like she didn't know who he was!

Ana harrumphed and turned Firedance towards the other red head, grumbling under her breath.

Johona seemed surprised that she was talking to him. He stuttered through his explanations of the Immortals War, but she got a general idea of how the Immortals had come to Tortall, and the extra bonus of learning about wildmagic.

"Why are there no Immortals in Thaylia?" she asked, when he finally finished.

"Uh, because there is no magic in Thaylia." Ana nodded. _Everything leads back to magic,_ she thought, thanking Johona for his time.

"You're welcome…Uh…Lady Anna."

~:~

Almost a week later, when they stopped for the night, Ana received a shock. They had passed out of the open land of the hills and into a forest, where the setting sun's rays filtered down through the lofty trees above. She hadn't even noticed, preoccupied with her thoughts about magic.

"Finally out o' tha' blasted desert," she heard one of the Own mutter, "I though' that damn sun was goin' to be the death of us all." Ana smiled at the man; he grinned back. "I bet it was ten times worse for you, with your light skin."

Ana shook her head, "You have no idea."

The man turned his horse away, chuckling. She watched him go, then turned her own horse towards where she saw Lucas, Tohmas and a few others grouped around a fire.

"Glad to be out of the desert?" Lucas asked her, nodding at the trees. She nodded heartily, smiling around at the little glade they were camped in. The trees were beautiful, their leaves a thousand hues of red, yellow, and dusky orange as they readied themselves for the winter to come. Ana had not imagined such beauty had existed in Tortall. She had never imagined it to be anything but desert and sand.

"I'm glad she's out of the desert," Tohmas grumbled, "now I won't have to heal her sunburns every day." Ana glared at him.

Lucas started to laugh, but it quickly turned to a hacking cough when Ana's glare turned in his direction.

"Is there any food around here?" Ana asked stiffly, "or do you only serve out criticism?"

Lucas handed her a bowl, still trying to stifle his chuckle. Ana sat down, eating the stew in silence.

After a few minutes the men started talking again. Ana ignored them, lost in her thoughts. _How did I come to be here? _She wondered. Only a few months ago she had been in a different world completely. A world where there was no magic, no war with Scanra, and only one God to bow down to. A world where she was dying from a disease that could not be located or cured.

And then Will had kidnapped her, and everything had changed.

She could not decide how she felt about her situation, torn between being grateful for being given a second chance and resentful for being given no choice about it. One day she had been content to die, resigned to the fact that she would soon pass from this world into whatever lay beyond…and the next she was rescued from that fate by the King of this strange new land.

It irked her that she could not find the courage in herself to simply confront Will about it all. She was sick of always being in the dark, of being taught only what he allowed her to be taught, of accepting everything he gave her with out question. She resented the way he had simply taken her life into his hands, for her fate was now out of her own…and he could not even find the time to tell her what it was to be.

Something deep within her stirred. Suddenly she was hit by a wave of homesickness so powerful it took her breath away. She saw her Mother, _may-she-live-forever_, and Marghi, laughing at one of the many jokes she played on them. She saw Darius smiling as he ruffled her hair. She saw Mari bustling about her bedchambers, tidying up after her. She saw the Palace where she grew up, with all its' soaring towers. All the happy memories of her childhood were flashing before her eyes.

Lastly came the memory of her father, his soft, soothing voice lulling her to sleep with his song. And, somehow, that was the worst of all. Her eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill.

"Ana, are you all right?"

Ana looked up into Will's concerned eyes, and burst into tears.

~:~

Will had never been so surprised in his life. Ana was such a _cheery_ person. He'd understood when she had cried the first time; _if I'd woken up and found myself in a completely different world I would have cried too_. But she had been with him and the Own for over a month, _and she seemed so happy._

So he was completely shocked when she started sobbing once again. He glanced around at the people seated around the fire, but they were all carefully avoiding looking at either of them. Marc, who would probably have responded instantly, was nowhere to be seen. So, for the second time, he picked her up and she soaked his shirt.

He walked through the camp, thankful he'd decided to stop for the day. Finally he reached Marc's tent and placed her on the makeshift bed. He was comforted to see that Ana had stolen the little curtain from his tent and hung it up in one corner. She'd been sleeping there since the night the spidren attacked her, and the thought never failed to put a sour taste in his mouth.

But as Ana turned her head and cried into her pillow, Will couldn't help but send a little stream of his Gift into her. Her breathing slowed and quieted as his spell sent her off to a peaceful dreamland. He studied her for a moment, his eyes lingering on the tracks of tears that spilled across her cheeks. She frowned in her sleep and Will swallowed thickly, suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion he balked at naming. His face tightened, then he stood, quietly making his exit. A group of men had gathered around the tent.

"Is she a'right?" One of them asked. Will shrugged.

"I don't know."

The man shook his head. "She seemed fine jus' a few minutes ago…we were talkin' bout the desert…"

Will put his hand on the man's shoulder, "I'll keep an eye on her." He said quietly, then raised his voice so all could hear, "We should all leave her to sleep in peace." He made a point of walking back towards where his commanders were. In the corner of his eye he could see the men all going their separate ways.

"Is she all right?" Lucas asked when he reached the fire.

~:~

Will entered the tent an hour later to find Ana staring at the ceiling, her curtain pulled back. "Where is Marc?" he asked, looking around curiously.

"I sent him away." There was a lengthy pause. "Will, why did you bring me here?" she whispered.

A sigh escaped his lips. _Because I dreamed of you, _he almost said, but then caught himself. It was too ridiculous to say aloud. His mind raced trying to find the right words, and after a moment he thought of a plausible explanation. "You would have died, your Gift was killing you." His voice was no louder than hers.

She sat up, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "You could have let me die. I'm a _Thaylian_; we invaded your neighboring countries, forced them to accept our ways, and _then, _we refused to negotiate peace when you fended off our expansion. You had every reason to let me die."

Sapphire eyes met amethyst. "You may be a Thaylian, but that doesn't make you any less human," Will murmured, "Who am I to decide whether you live or die? It is the Gods who decide that, not a mere mortal king, like myself. Besides, I believe you will have a part to play in the coming battle."

Ana dropped her gaze from his. "In Thaylia," she said to her hands, "we had only one God. He made the world and he oversees all that happens in it from on high. Here everyone speaks of the Gods like they are actual people…people who just happen to be enormously powerful, immortal, and fond of dabbling in the fate of those who worship them."

Will smiled bitterly. "The legends speak of many Gods…Mirthros, the Goddess, the Black God, the Graveyard Hag…there are more than I could name. They live in the Realms of the Gods—the Divine Realm. In times past it was said they often meddled in human affairs, but none of the Gods have been seen in a very long time." Will thought of the image of Alanna the Lioness walking out of the fire and remembered the vividness of his dreams. "That seems to be changing," he muttered, "now that you've arrived."

Ana was staring at him, he realized, and his heart stopped beating for a moment before it jolted back into its normal rhythm. Her violet eyes were so beautiful, framed as they were by those ridiculously red lashes. "Who is the Lioness?" Ana asked, softly.

Will sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, wondering where to begin. Ana was still looking at him, her face the picture of frustration. He had to hide a smile as he said, "I _will_ answer your question; I am simply trying to figure out where to begin."

Ana quirked an eyebrow at him, "Why don't you begin at the beginning?" she asked. "You know, she had to have been born at some point, right?"

Will chuckled, unable to help himself. "Can we make a deal?" He said, "I will give you the short version now, but the full explanation will have to wait until we get to Corus. There is much to show you there…and much to tell, though much of it is known only to myself and a few others, for the histories have been sadly depleted over the years, and much that was once well known has been forgotten. "

"Deal." Ana said, putting out her hand. He looked at her extended hand curiously, wondering what the gesture meant. Ana giggled suddenly and he looked up at her in wonder. "Now you know how I've been feeling for the past month," she said, smiling. "It is called 'shaking hands' and it's what you do when you make a deal with someone."

It was Will's turn to arch an eyebrow, "What is the point of this 'shaking hands'?"

Ana's brow furrowed as she thought. "You know…I have no idea! It's just what you do when you make a deal…we also shake hands when we meet people. " Then she shook her head, "Shake first, then stop stalling and tell me about the Lioness."

Will put his hand in hers and she moved their joined hands up and down in the air a few times.

Their eyes met and Ana burst into laughter. "You look like you are thinking, 'what a stupid thing to do'…" she giggled and Will frowned at her.

"That is _exactly_ what I was thinking, actually," he said, surprised that she had read that on his face. He was usually better about being impassive in those kind of situations—he had to, to be a diplomat.

Ana's laughter died out, but it lingered in her eyes, which looked at him expectantly. He let her hand drop, then stepped away from her. He thought for a moment, then began, "Alanna the Lioness was Tortall's greatest hero, her Last Champion, who saved Tortall from ruin countless times. In her day it was unheard of for women to become knights, but she was so determined to earn her shield that she disguised herself as a boy and entered into the training for knighthood as a page." Will's voice lowered, "She succeeded, though it was discovered shortly after that she was female, much to everyone's chagrin. But it could not be denied that she had won her Knighthood fair and square, and so it was because of her courage that women first became allowed to train as knights.

"The years of the Lioness's life are filled with extraordinary deeds and accomplishments. It was not an easy time for Tortall, though it was a great one. Many of our greatest ancestors lived in that time, which we call the Golden Age. I am the descendant of Jonathon IV of Conte, who trained with Alanna—or Alan, as she called herself. They were good friends for many years; she squired for him in the early years of his knighthood, and then served as his right hand and Champion when he became King. When she died, it was prophesied that Tortall would never again have a Champion until she returned. Thus we call her the Last Champion."

Ana had listened attentively to his explanation, her eyes as eager as a child's. When she realized that he wasn't going to continue she said, "Am I allowed to ask questions?"

Will raised his eyebrows. "Like what, for instance?"

"Like, what is a _knight?_"

Will sighed, resigning himself to a long explanation. He didn't really mind telling her all about the knighthood, in fact, if he was honest with himself, he was delighted by her curiosity.

_I must be a masochist,_ he thought, looking into those violet eyes, _for I enjoy torturing myself so very much._

~ ~:~ ~


	19. Shadows in the Night

Chapter Eighteen: Shadows in the Night

In the darkest hour of the night a thrush gave its shrill cry. A guard shivered, it was said that when the thrush cries the Black God is near. He huddled down in his cloak, trying to warm himself against frigid air of the autumn evening.

Suddenly, he saw something stirring in the shadows just ahead of him. "Who's there?" he cried, the fear obvious in his voice.

He didn't hear the person approaching from behind until it was too late. A sword flashed, and the guard crumpled to the ground.

Out of the shadows a nightmare creature came. It moved in a half limp, half hop towards where the guardsman lay. It seemed to absorb light, so it was only one big shadow. When it reached the dead guard it lowered what could be called a head, and started devouring him.

After he had finished the beast looked at the man who had killed the guardsman. "What news have you for our master?" it asked, in a voice never meant for human speech.

"Tell Lord Dubyn that there has been a new development. It seems the King has found a Thaylian with a powerful Gift. I can feel the hand of the Goddess on her, she could be dangerous."

The creature spread its wings. "I will bring you his answer, my Lord."

The murderer watched as the creature flew silently into the night, then turned and walked back into the encampment.

Once again, the thrush cried.

~:~

Ana awoke with a start. Somewhere outside she could hear a thrush calling. _I wonder what woke me,_ she thought. She rolled over, and jerked up. Marc was gone.

"Marc?" she whispered. "Marc?" the beginnings of panic entered her voice, "Marc!"

"I'm right here, love." Marc said, ducking through the tent flap.

Ana breathed a sigh of relief. "You scared me. Where did you go?"

"I felt my body calling me," he grinned at her, pulling off one of his boots, "so I went to relieve myself, and then I thought I heard voices. When I went to investigate there was no one there. Then I heard you calling me, so I came right away." He pulled off his shirt, and then turned to look at her. "I think I hear my body calling me again,"

Ana giggled at his roguish look. "I hope this time it's a different sort of call."

"It sure is."

~:~

Captain Faymar stifled a yawn as he slowly pulled on his breeches. He hadn't been happy when Lucas assigned him the fourth watch of the night, but then no one liked to have 'the grave yard stretch'. Picking up his cloak, he shrugged it on, pulling the hood up. The night was especially cold tonight, winter was almost on top of them.

Trudging slowly through the dark tents, he made his way over to the edge of the camp. He was supposed to relieve Hare Samalson, the Own's most superstitious member. Faymar smiled. _It would be fun to creep up on him and scare the wits out of him,_ he thought.

Silently as he could, he crept out to where Hare was supposed to be. But he wasn't there.

Faymar looked around, thinking maybe he'd gone to the wrong spot, but he hadn't. There was the big rock that he'd thought would make a nice seat, and the trees looked right. _Maybe he fell asleep._ It was too dark to tell.

He fumbled in his pouch for his lantern, flint, and steel. Carefully lighting the lantern and closing the shutters so no one else could see the light, he scanned the ground. He was standing in a pool of dark water, _I wonder why there is water here_. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something white. He walked over and picked it up. It was a human finger.

~ ~:~ ~


	20. Corus

Chapter Nineteen: Corus

"Do you see that hill?" Lucas asked, pointing. Ana nodded, sleepily. For the first time since she'd been with them the Own had ridden straight through the night. Ever since Hare Samalson had disappeared the night before last, the Own had been on the move; none of the soldiers wanted to risk Hare's fate.

Lucas's words penetrated her weary thoughts. "You'll be able to see Corus when we reach the top of that hill."

Ana looked up at the hill, her fatigue forgotten. Finally she would be able to see the city that all the men talked about! She wanted to spur Firedance to a faster pace, but Will and Marc, at the head of the column, were riding at the usual steady walk and it would not do to trample the King and his Spymaster.

After several excruciating minutes, they finally reached the crest of the hill, and Ana got her first view of Corus—a sight she would remember for the rest of her life.

The sun had just peeked over the tops of the surrounding hills, showering the valley in golden light. The Tortallian city sprawled the entire length of the valley, shining like gold in the morning light. The buildings were made of stone, so very different from the steel and concrete that fit her idea of a city. Ana marveled at the care and craftsmanship that had gone into this city, for it was clear that every stone had been laid with a purpose, unlike the slap-stick way in which the City had been constructed. _Though there is one thing they have in common, _Ana thought, for both cities were built on a series of hills, with a golden palace at their pinnacle. Her eyes roved over the soaring walls of Will's palace and she felt a smile tugging at her lips. _Will's palace has towers too, _she observed.

She tore her eyes away from the colorful flags that waved merrily at the peaks of the towers, taking in the rest of the wondrous sight. The road ran straight down the hill, pointing like an arrow at the hulking gates which barred the way into the massive outer-wall that marked the city limits. The valley before them was blanketed with long, golden grass, which rippled in the autumn wind like waves on a grass lake. Somewhere close, a bird began the first song of the day.

Stopped at the top of the hill, Ana hadn't even noticed that the Own had also stopped. She turned from the beautiful city, and found Will sitting beside her, studying her face. She grinned at him, and he smiled back. "Welcome to Corus," he said, starting down the hill.

Ana followed him, sandwiched between Marc and Lucas.

They entered the city as the sun rose in the east. The streets were broad, and paved with large bricks. Even at the early hour people were out, going about their daily work. It was those early risers who started the rumor. "The King has returned!" Soon the streets were lined with people shouting and cheering for their King. Will nodded and waved, it seemed as natural to him as breathing.

Slowly the Own made their way through the streets of Corus, the crowds cheering them every step of the way. When they finally left the crowds behind, and entered the Palace Way the quiet seemed almost unnatural. The Own's men all started to go their separate ways, until the only people left were Ana, Lucas, and Will. _The same people it was at the beginning_, Ana thought.

They continued on, past several gardens, until they reached a large courtyard. In front of them lay the Palace. It was entirely made of marble, and it glowed with a subtle radiance. Ana studied the many soaring towers and turrets, and wondered if Will ever got lost.

At the far end of the courtyard, a very pregnant woman stood. Will and Lucas rode up to her, and Ana followed in their wake. The woman was clearly related to Will, she had the same dark hair and sapphire-blue eyes.

"So the King and his Lord Commander wish to enter the Palace, do they?" the woman asked.

"That was our intention, Lara," replied Lucas.

Lara crossed her arms, her face serious. "What if I say you cannot enter it?"

Ana stared at her. _Is she saying the_ King _cannot enter his own Palace?_

Will gave a long sigh, "Then we shall have to sleep in the kennels."

Lara laughed; a happy sound. "Get down here you great brutes, and say hello to me!" She held open her arms. Will dismounted and gave her a long hug. "It's good to see you, sister," he said.

"I see you haven't been idle, while we were gone," Lucas said, indicating her full belly.

Lara laughed again, "You should know, you put it there!" She turned to look at Lucas and spotted Ana, behind him. "Who is this?" she asked, giving Lucas a hard look, "What are you doing hiding her from me?"

Will cleared his throat. "This is Ana, Lara. She's is from Thaylia."

Lara motioned for her to come forward, "Don't be shy, love. I won't bite."

Ana moved out from behind Lucas. Lara held out her hand, "I'm that fool of a King's sister," she said, motioning towards Will. "and that ox's wife," she waved at Lucas. "Laranata of Silverlee, but please call me Lara." Ana put her hand in Lara's, smiling warmly; she couldn't help but like her.

Lara gave her a curious look. "You have the Gift." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Ana said quietly, "I'm studying under Tohmas."

"Then you're learning from the best," she said, and then shook her head, "Where are my manners? I suppose you want a place to sleep." Ana nodded gratefully. "I'll show you where you'll be staying." She grasped Ana's hand more firmly and started to lead her off. But Ana stopped.

"What about Firedance?" she asked.

"Lucas will stable her, won't you?" Lara grinned at him, and turned away, chatting to Ana.

Will sighed. "I will never understand that woman," he said, "One moment she acts like a queen and the next she's as silly as a barmaid."

"What do you expect?" Lucas asked, "Look who she's got for a brother!"

Will put on a false scowl, "Well, look who she's got for a husband!"

Laughing heartily both men headed towards the stables.

~:~

"Do you like the city, Ana dear?" Lara asked, still holding Ana's hand.

"Actually, I'm in awe of what I've seen so far," Ana shook her head, "it is so different in Thaylia."

They turned a corner. "What is different?" Lara asked.

"In the City, everything is made of steel. Here I can see it is all made of stone." Ana reached out and touched a wall, "Everything is beautiful here, while many things in Thaylia are very ugly."

Lara laughed, and opened a door, "You may see them as beautiful now, but after a long winter here you'll think it's as ugly as a nightmare."

Ana shook her head, "I don't think I would."

They stepped into the room. It was like walking into a purple dream. The walls were pale lavender, while the filmy curtains were a darker mauve. Lara strode ahead and threw open the windows, and a door that led to a balcony. "This is your sitting room," she said, fluffing the pillows on the violet couches.

Lara walked over to a set of double doors and threw them open, "And this is your bedroom." Ana could see similar decorations in that room. Lara turned to her, "I wasn't expecting you, so I didn't tell the servants to air out the room. I'm sorry if it is a little musty. It hasn't been used in a while."

_Actually,_ Lara thought,_ it hasn't been used for over three decades. _But Lara would never have told Ana that the Lavender Suites were usually reserved for visiting royalty. They were always kept prepared, of course, but it was more out of habit than of necessity, for these days it was rare to see anyone more important than the obligatory ambassadors in Tortall's capital.

Ana was studying the paintings on the walls. They were of the Eight Great Warriors and their followers. Lara could name them all by heart: _Alanna the Lioness, Keladry the Protector, Veralidiane the Wildmage, Numair Salmalin, Jonathon the Just, Queen Thayet the Peerless, __Raoul of Golden Lake, and Buri of the K'mri. _Ana was staring at the last one, of the Lioness.

"Who is that?" Ana asked, delicately touching the painting.

"Alanna the Lioness, the Last Champion," Lara replied, "She died so that Tortall could live on, and in her honor we have not had a Champion since."

Ana turned from the painting and Lara blinked. She hadn't noticed it before, but Ana could have passed for the Lioness's twin. _Except the Lioness already had a twin._ "What is a Champion?" Ana asked.

Lara shook off her shock. "The Champion is like the sword hand of the King. He or she acts as supreme commander of the King's armies, second only to the King himself." Lara paused, "Tortall hasn't had a Champion for almost a thousand years, but it is said that in Tortall's time of greatest need, the Last Champion will come again.

Lara looked into Ana's violet eyes and saw the fire that lay within them. _I think she's already here._ "I'll have the servants bring you a bath, and a new set of clothes."

~:~

Ana roamed casually around the castle's many hallways and corridors. Each turn revealed a new wonder for someone used to the rigid style of Thaylia's buildings. In her wanderings she'd already found several gardens, the stables, and the kitchens.

But slowly she'd begun to see signs of decay. Many of the gardens were overgrown despite the army of gardeners that planted, trimmed, and watered. There was one stable that had collapsed upon itself, and she'd found an entire wing of the palace that had been deserted, and not recently by the layers of dust on everything.

It had become clear that Tortall was not as mighty a country as it had once been. Currently the palace held a fraction of what its limits were. Over half of the guestrooms were empty, and even the Own's barracks were not filled.

Ana stopped next to a fountain, sitting on the edge and letting the water spray her face.

"There you are!" a voice said.

Ana turned, looking for the source of the voice. It was Lara.

"We thought we'd lost you," she laughed at Ana's abashed expression.

"I was just looking around. I guess I never thought to tell someone where I was going."

Lara smiled, "I understand, dear. Did you enjoy your tour?"

Ana nodded enthusiastically. "It was lovely."

Lara laughed. _She has such a wonderful laugh, _Ana thought. Lara pointed to the sky. "Since you missed the noon meal I suppose you want something to eat."

As if in answer Ana's stomach grumbled. Ana blushed, embarrassed, but Lara just smiled knowingly. "After we've fed you, I'll give you a real tour."

~:~

The sound of laughter drifted from a doorway up ahead. Her curiosity perked, Ana silently urged Lara to move faster. But first Lara had to explain about the suits of armor that lined the hallway. "These plates of armor were put here in…." paying only half a mind to what her guide was saying Ana drifted toward the sound of laughter, and peered through the portal.

It was by far the most cozy room she had seen so far, though not the most elegant. The walls were lined with books, more than she had ever seen in her entire life. In the little wall space left there hung a few radiant tapestries. A gigantic fireplace graced the center of the room, and comfortable chairs and couches were placed around it.

Lara had entered the room unnoticed behind her. "The Lesser library," she said, smiling at Ana's wonderment. _The _Lesser _library?_ Ana thought faintly. "The Greater library is much the same, only larger and more dusty." Ana nodded, scanning the room. In the far corner she could see a dozen or so children playing.

Ana pointed at them, "Whose children are those?" she asked.

Lara smiled, "All mine," then made her voice louder, "Children, children! Come and meet our guest." The children all looked up from their games, and then rushed over to where the two women stood. Ana smiled at their impatient eagerness, she'd always loved children, though she'd seldom been able to interact with them. The servant's children were always shy around her, and the children of the Courtiers had treated her with the same haughty disdain as their parents.

There were eleven of them in all, seven boys and four girls. The oldest was only a year or so younger than she and the youngest was little more than a babe. Lara introduced them all, and then turned to them, "This is Ana," she said, "I expect you to treat her as well as you would treat any guest."

The one of the younger boys peered up at her. "Are you really a Thaylian?" he asked.

"Troy!" Lara scolded, "where are your manners? Apologize to Ana for being so rude." The boy blushed, and muttered something under his breath.

Lara frowned at him, but was stopped reprimanding him again by the entrance of the King. "Uncle!" eleven throats cried, racing towards the named man. Will disappeared under a sea of bodies and arms, laughing heartily.

Ana smiled watching Will lift the youngest child into his arms. As she watched he finished greeting this nieces and nephews and slowly made his way towards her.

"He's mad I tell you," Lucas said, coming up behind her, "raving mad." She hadn't even noticed his entrance behind the King.

"Why is he mad?" Ana asked.

Lucas snorted. "Look at the fool! Letting those dirty little brats climb all over him. You'd think he'd have more sense, being the King and all."

"He's got more sense than you do, you great ox!" Lucas jumped as he met Lara's ferocious glare. "Those 'dirty little brats' are our children, milord! And I will not have you saying such things about them. Besides," she sniffed, "they are cleaner than you any day!"

"Huh!" Lucas grumbled, "don't you know its rude to sneak up on a man?"

"Don't you know it's rude to ignore a lady's presence?" she retorted.

Lucas's jaw worked as he tried to think up a reply. Ana giggled helplessly. And even Will, who had joined them, was chuckling.

"Don't let them fool you," Will cautioned her, "They're madly in love."

The sources of the dispute, had all disappeared, except for the one Will still cradled in his arms. She held her arms out to Lucas, "Papa!" she cried happily.

Lucas's face visibly softened. He took the child from Will and turned to an expectant looking Lara. "I suppose they're not so bad," he said gruffly, as his daughter buried her face in his chest.

"I'm glad you realize that." Lara said, smiling rather triumphantly.

~ ~:~ ~


	21. Desolation and Anticipation

A Note from Nessa'fur:

I have fixed the error in the last chapter that I seemed to have overlooked despite all my efforts at editing. There are Seven Great Protectors _not including Alanna, _which means when you count her among them there are eight. Thanks to tigerpower494 for pointing out that Thayet was missing and drawing my attention to the matter. And as for George...well there is a reason he is not listed, but its still too early in the story to find out why :)

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Twenty: Desolation and Anticipation

Ana sat on the edge of her windowsill, staring out at the wintry landscape of Corus. In her hand she held the note Lucas had given her the week before. It read:

_Ana,_

_I'm leaving today for Scanra, with Rob. By the time Lucas gives this to you I'll be long gone. I would have liked to say goodbye to you in person, but I couldn't risk the temptation to bring you with me. I hope you'll have forgiven me by the time I return._

–_Marc_

Ana sighed as she watched the snow fall daintily. Corus was a beautiful city and the people here were especially kind, but she'd found it hard to keep the loneliness at bay. Lucas, Will, and Tohmas were always in one council or another, preparing for the coming war. Lara was too busy to spend much time with her, and she didn't know anyone else well enough to seek them out. So now that Marc was gone she was desolate.

It surprised her how much she missed Marc, how much she craved his presence. She thought back on their time together, surprised to realize that they had only been acquainted for little more than a month. She felt like she had known him her whole life. He was all she had ever dreamed about in a man and more; the hero she had always wished would enter into her story. He was interesting, charming, dashing, beautiful, patient…perfect in all the best ways. And best of all, he liked her. Maybe he even loved her. _Maybe I love him, _she thought, wondering.

Perhaps that was why the world seemed to brighten when he smiled his handsome smile at her. Perhaps that was why she dreamt of him every night, her memory haunted by his alluring smell. Or perhaps it was just that he was so very good at distracting her, at making her easy with this strange new world she found herself in.

She had grown accustomed to his company over the weeks of their travels. It had been one of the happiest times in her memory, filled with his delightful conversation, sly wit, and sweet kisses. Now that he was gone she missed his presence terribly. She thought about him constantly, wondering where he was and what he was doing. She wondered if he lay awake at night and thought about her, even as she thought about him.

Ana sighed, tracing her finger absently along the frosted panes of the window. She remembered the soft warmth of his brown eyes, the sweet, tangy taste of his soft lips, and the fresh, cool scent of his skin.

Her eyes suddenly focused on the window, her hand frozen as she looked upon what she had written upon the glass.

_He lies!_

Ana stared at the words, frowning.

There came a sharp knock at the door. Ana started. She hesitated for a moment, then leapt off the window-seat and rushed to the portal. A servant peered at her shyly. "Lady Laranata wishes you to join her in her quarters, Lady."

Ana grinned, happy to have been granted such a well-timed distraction. She didn't want to think about the words that she had thoughtlessly written on the window. _Finally, something to do!_ She followed eagerly as the servant led her to Lara's chambers.

"Thank you, Nancy." Lara said waving away the servant after opening her door, "Why don't you take the rest of the day off, you look harried."

Nancy scurried off with a smile. Lara shut the door, and turned to Ana. "I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you here."

Ana shook her head. "I was too grateful to be out of my rooms to be curious."

Lara laughed. "You never cease to amaze me," she chuckled. "But there _was_ a reason I brought you here."

"And what was that?"

The older woman shook a finger at her, "I'll get there! Be patient. First I wanted to ask you about you…how you are doing." Her gaze was suddenly concerned. "You've been left alone so much lately, I've wondered. And I couldn't help but notice how much you were sighing the other night. Are you all right, Ana?"

Ana stared at Lara, suddenly a little frightened by the older woman's perception. _How did she know I'm not exactly feeling peachy-keen at the moment?_

"I…" Ana started, then trailed off, uncertain of how to put her feelings into words. She sighed, and said quietly, "I've been very lonely. You are all so very busy getting ready for war, and I miss having company." She paused for a moment, then whispered. "And I miss Marc very much."

"Lucas told me that you two had become quite the pair during your journey here," Lara said, her voice that of a concerned friend. "I wondered if you would miss him," she said, her words an opening.

Ana sighed, then looked up into Lara's caring eyes. "I know that what he does is vital for Tortall, but I cannot help but wish that he were here in Corus with me instead. And what he does as Spymaster is so very dangerous, I worry that something terrible will befall him."

Lara nodded, her face understanding. "Every time Lucas rides off with the Own I wonder if he will ride back to me and my children, or leave us mourning his untimely death. But though I doubt his ability to take care of himself, I trust Will and his men to keep him safe and unharmed. Marc is no stranger to danger, Ana; he has been Spymaster for many years now. He knows what he is doing."

Ana's eyes were bright, but she nodded. "Yet still I worry," she sighed.

Lara's kind eyes were knowing as she said, "You just have to learn to live with it—that is the way of ..." She paused, then said quietly, "Then you like him very much?"

Ana nodded, grateful to finally be able to say the words. "I love him."

"Ana," Lara said hesitantly. "I know that you feel very strongly about Marc, but I must warn you, as a friend…and someone who has known Marc much longer than you have…" She hesitated again.

Ana put a hand on Lara's arm. "Please tell me," she said seriously, "I would like to know what you know of him…good or bad."

It was Lara's turn to sigh. She gestured at the chairs and settee that faced the fireplace. "Perhaps we should sit?" She asked. Ana rolled her eyes, but followed Lara and sat next to her on the settee.

The older woman inhaled a deep breath, then said, "Marc is known as quite the ladies man around Corus," she said quietly. "I know of too many servants who have been left to raise the offspring of his dabbling—and not a few noble women, though they have ways of divesting themselves of such shameful burdens—to doubt it. I only ask that you be cautious before you give your heart to him. I would not want to see it broken..."

Ana looked at her hands. _I think it has just broken, _she thought. She felt a sharp jab of jealousy rip through her at the thought of all of the other women who had looked into his soft brown eyes and seen a smile there.

"Ana." Lara whispered, leaning over to lay her hand on Ana's knee. "Are you pregnant? Is that why you have been so depressed lately?"

Ana stared at the other woman in surprise. Her cheeks flooded with a deep blush as she realized the conclusion that Lara must have come to at Ana's reaction to her words. "No!" She stammered. "No, I'm not…we didn't…" Her blush grew deeper in her embarrassment. _This is what comes of sleeping in the tents of men, _Ana thought, _everyone thinks you're a hussy!_

Lara blinked, obviously startled. "When I heard that you'd been sleeping in his tent I assumed...I apologize."

Ana shook her head, embarrassed. "It was very inappropriate of me, I cannot blame you for coming to such a conclusion," Ana said, "but I just wanted to be with him. He was…very patient with my shyness. He was always such a gentleman…he said that he was content to watch me sleep and to have his face be the first I saw in the morning."

Lara put her hand on Ana's shoulder. "It will be comforting to you to know that I have never heard of him being so very patient before," Lara said, "Perhaps he does feel for you as you do for him."

"I hope so." Ana whispered. "And in the mean time, I will just have to resign myself to worrying about him."

Lara smiled suddenly, her eyes twinkling with sly humor. "I think I might have just the distraction to keep you from worrying too much about things that are out of your control," she said. "Now, to let you in on the reason for this little visit…I brought you here because the King's birthday is coming up, and every year we hold a celebration for him." A frown flickered across Lara's face. "This year will be no different from any other. With the threat of the Scanrans hanging over our head we need a reason to relax. Since you'll be attending the ball you'll need a dress, because you certainly won't be able to wear those," she waved a hand at Ana's breeches. She didn't seem to notice the stubborn look that came unto her face. "I think–"

Ana cut her off. "I'm not going to any ball," she scowled.

"And why is that?" Lara asked.

"Because!" Ana threw up her hands. "Every ball I've ever attended has ended with me either horribly embarrassed or fainting!"

"You attended balls in Thaylia?"

"Of course I did!" Ana cried, the words tumbling from her lips in her agitation, "My Mother, _may she live forever_, forced me to go! _She_ didn't care that I am a most horrible dancer. _She_ didn't care that the entire Court hated me! All _she_ ever cared about was what was _proper_!" Ana collapsed into a chair, exhausted from her outburst.

Lara was looking at her thoughtfully. "And who was this mother of yours to have treated you in such an inconsiderate fashion? Not the Empress herself?"

Ana gasped. "How did you guess?" she asked, her irritation forgotten.

Lara smiled, "I've never heard anyone say that their mother should live forever, when they're obviously upset at them."

Ana looked frantically at Lara. "Please, please don't tell anyone!" she pleaded. She closed her eyes, cursing herself for her indiscretion. "If it were generally known…" she trailed off, horrified at the implications.

Lara grinned impishly, "I won't, as long as you come to the ball."

Ana muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

"What was that?" Lara asked.

"Fine. I'll go," Ana sulked, "but that doesn't make me any better at dancing."

Lara laughed. "Is that all you're worried about? Well I can teach you how to dance easily enough."

Ana stared at her. "Would you? I mean, with a dress and everything?"

"Of course. We could start today, I'll bring a dress."

"Where should I meet you?"

"Right here, an hour after dinner."

Ana smiled, happy once again. "I've always wanted to really learn how to dance well." It was a prominent feature in many of the novels of her childhood. She'd always resented the Court for denying her the pleasure of enjoying herself at a ball.

Lara laughed, "I'll be happy to teach you."

~ ~:~ ~


	22. Preparations for Celebration

Chapter Twenty-One: Preparations for Celebration

The rest of the day seemed to creep by for Ana. She'd wanted to learn how to dance ever since she was a little child, but dancing was not to have been part of her curriculum until just a few years before her debut…and by then, she'd been deemed, by her Mother and the doctors who advised her, to be in too poor of health to master anything more than the simplest steps. She had always resented them for holding her back. Now that she was cured, Ana was eager to prove she could handle herself well enough not to step on her partners' feet.

Finally, the hour came and Ana hurried to Lara's quarters. "Come in," Lara called, when she knocked.

Ana entered to find Lara's sitting room completely altered. All the furniture had been pushed against one wall, leaving a large space in the center. The huge carpet that usually adorned the floor had been removed, exposing the tile beneath. "It was the best I could do," Lara said, coming out of another room.

"It looks so different," Ana said, gesturing about her.

Lara smiled. "Come try on your dress."

Ana followed her into the room she had come from, which turned out to her dressing room. Lara held out a rather plain-looking gown and motioned for her to put it on. It was only then that Ana realized she didn't know how. Thaylian dress required many more layers, and several servants to put it on you.

"Lara," Ana said, embarrassed, "I don't know how to–"

"Of course! How stupid of me, you've never put on a Tortallian dress before!" Lara came over and helped Ana out her breeches, and into the underclothes. As they tightened the chemise's lacing Ana gasped.

"How can you breathe?" she cried. "How can you bend over?"

Lara snorted in a rather unladylike way, "A lady doesn't need to breathe, and she most certainly doesn't need to bend over. All a _lady_ needs to do is get a good husband to do all that for her." Ana stared at the older woman.

"You seem very bitter about that."

Lara shook her head, "All my life I wanted to learn how to use a sword," she sighed, "but my father wouldn't let me. He said that women have other duties than trying to play hero." Lara looked straight at Ana. "But I keep having this feeling that you're going to change all that."

Ana's eyes widened. "Me? But I'm just a Thaylian, I can't–"

Lara interrupted. "Your presence has given hope to everyone. Knowing that even a _Thaylian_ can have the Gift is very heartening. And that glimmer of hope is what may be the deciding factor in the coming war." Lara put a hand on Ana's shoulder. "But now is not the time to talk about war! We must teach you how to dance." Ana giggled as Lara did a silly sort of jig.

"I hope that's not how you dance here!" she laughed.

"No," Lara smiled. "But I'd like to know how you dance in Thaylia."

Ana smiled thoughtfully. "I don't know if I can dance properly at all in this dress." Gingerly she tested her range of motion—yes, it was far too restricted in the bodice and far too unrestricted in the skirts. The current fashion of Thaylian Court dress was tight to the knees, winding in layers of a flexible elastic, then the dresses swooped out into layers of ruffles or short trains. The dances reflected the dresses, tight and exacting. "I may be able to do a few of the simpler steps."

Lara nodded eagerly, "Please show me."

Ana stretched for a few moments and then slowly she began to dance. After several stilted twirls and stiff, concise steps Lara realized that Thaylia's balls were nothing like Tortall's balls. "Ana," Lara said, putting a hand on her arm. "I'm afraid our dances are much simpler." She glanced at Ana's red face, "And much easier to do."

First she showed Ana the steps for a pavane, stepping it out and then having her copy. Ana was a fast and eager learner, though rather unsure of herself. Slowly she relaxed, and within two hours she had mastered the dance.

"Tomorrow I'll teach you a sarabande," Lara told Ana, as she helped her change into her regular clothes. "And I'll have you measured for a ball gown."

"A ball gown?" Ana asked, "Why can't I wear this?" She pointed to the dress she had worn that day.

Lara laughed, "Because, I won't allow you to wear servants clothes to a ball!"

"Servants clothes?" Ana asked plucking at a sleeve.

"I asked to borrow a dress from a servant who was about your size."

Ana laughed as she headed towards the door. "Then I suppose you'll have to give it back."

"No, I'll just have to buy her a new dress."

~:~

"No." Will said, crossing his arms and glowering. "Not this year. This is not the time to be celebrating. War is on the horizon and we should be preparing for it, not wasting time and resources on a ball."

"But it is your birthday, Will," Lara said, frowning at him just as darkly in return. "The people will expect a celebration. And you are wrong about this being an improper time for a ball—it is the _perfect_ time for a ball. The people need a reason to celebrate, _especially_ in dark and uncertain times."

Will muttered to himself, but he knew that Lara was speaking wise truth. It _would _be good for morale to celebrate his birthday as they did every year. It would be a good way to show that life in Tortall would still go on as usual, despite the looming threat of Scanra.

But he hated balls on the principle alone. It was a _blasted_ waste of his time; his attention claimed the entire night by calculating nobles, each determined that _their_ daughter would be the next person he danced with. It was a necessary evil that he endured when he had to, but it never failed to be a tedious and unpleasant way to spend an evening. _I think I'd rather face Li Dubyn tomorrow than have to face Madam Helga waving her foul daughter beneath my eyes like a spoiled fish. The girl looks like a mackerel…that is unkind, _he reprimanded himself. _She is no worse than the others that fawn for my attention._

Lara tapped her heel in an impatient manner, her black eyebrows raised. "So?" she asked, "Can I move forward with the preparations or not?"

Blessedly, he was saved from answering by Lucas's entrance.

"I'm worried about Ana." Lucas announced, looking hard at the two of them. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he had just interrupted their conversation. Will could have hugged him for his timing. "She's been spending most her time holed up in her room, not seeing anyone. She doesn't seem the type to brood…"

"Unlike _some_ people I know," Lara put in pointedly. Will glared at her for a moment, but then turned back to Lucas who was still talking, "And I'm worried about her…" he finished, rather lamely.

There was a short silence, then Lara said, "I talked to her earlier today. She is very lonely. I think she needs something to do to keep her from brooding about her fate." A sly smile stole across her face, "A ball would cheer her up nicely," she finished, grinning impishly at the two of them.

"I don't think a _ball _is what Ana wants right now," Will said darkly.

"You know nothing of what a woman wants," Lara said dismissively, "Ana was very excited to hear about a ball in the near future." She sighed in an exaggerated manner, "I will hate to see the disappointment on her face when I tell her she won't get to use the dance steps I've been teaching her."

Will sighed, resigned to his fate.

"Fine." He growled, "But don't expect me to help in your _preparations_. You want a ball, then you make it happen. I will be quite busy enough readying Tortall for war."

Lara rolled her eyes, "No one asked for your involvement. You'd only be in the way, anyway."

~ ~:~ ~


	23. The Ball: Part One

A Note from Nessa'fur:

And thus begins one of my favorite sequences from the old story, slightly revamped...

Oh, and Ana quotes Robin McKinley in this chapter (actually, Beauty from RMcK's retelling of Beauty and the Beast). Props and a :) to anyone who can find it.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Twenty-two: The Ball: Part One

"Ouch!" Ana cried, "You pricked me again!"

"Humph!" the seamstress snorted, "If ya'd stay still I wo'na poke ye."

Ana glowered, but stopped fidgeting. Lara, who was watching from the settee, tried vainly to control her mad giggling, but succeeded only to have Ana's glare turn on her.

"Someday I'm going to watch _you_ being fitted," Ana sniffed, "and when I do, I'll laugh so loud and hard that you'll think something is wrong with me!"

The seamstress snorted again. "I a'ready think somet'n's wrong with ye!"

The look on Ana's face would have made the most serious soldier chuckle and Lara was no serious soldier. She tactfully exited the room before her mirth erupted.

"There!" the seamstress smoothed out one of the seams. Then she turned to Ana, "S'all done, dearie. Tha' gown will charm the boots outta any man."

Ana looked down. "My lord!" she exclaimed, "There's barely enough bodice to deserve the name!" But that wasn't all, her shoulders were also bared, and the bodice was tight across her abdomen, fitting her like a second skin. "There must be something more, an over dress or something," Ana hadn't questioned the feeling of nakedness until now. She'd just assumed something went over the dress, as it would in Thaylia.

The seamstress shook her head. "Are ye crazie? Tain't need nothin else," her brow suddenly darkened. "Are ye sayin that ya don' like it? 'cause I ken always cut if off ye!" she shook a scissors threateningly.

Ana quickly shook her head, "No! I was just saying that it's a little low necked, that's all." _No necked, more like_, she added to herself.

"Humph!" the seamstress glowered, "It's fine jus' as it is! Now get on out of here!"

Ana hurried out of room before the seamstress could change her mind. She found a somewhat calmer Lara sipping a cup of tea in the sitting room. Ana curtsied just like Lara had taught her. "Do I look like I'm wearing 'servants clothes'?" Ana asked with mock seriousness.

"No," Lara murmured thoughtfully. "You look like a princess."

Ana rolled her eyes. "More like a servant caught wearing her mistress's clothes."

"Do you think so?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "Have you looked in a mirror yet?"

Ana shook her head, and Lara led her to the mirror that graced the wall.

The face that looked back at her was no longer thin and pale, but strong and healthy. Flaming red hair cascaded in messy curls down past her waist, bright amethyst eyes twinkled above her strong nose and stubborn chin. Her skin had darkened to a soft bronze (mostly due to effect of the many freckles that had erupted over her nose and cheeks, which, unfortunately, did nothing to hide her perpetual blushes). Though she was more handsome than pretty Ana thought she had never looked so good, but then it could have been the lack of her usual sickly pallor.

The dress did the look wonderful on her. The silver material brought out the brightness of her eyes, and the color of her skin. The skirts were slashed down the middle, so her pale lavender petticoats peeked out. A short train followed her wherever she went, along with the quiet rustle of petticoats.

Ana smiled at Lara's reflection in the mirror. She smiled back, "We have to do something with your hair."

"Don't you have to get ready too?" Ana asked.

Lara laughed. "I suppose I do. If you'll wait for me to get dressed we could have our hair done together."

"I won't mind the wait," Ana insisted. She sat down to emphasize her point.

Lara laughed, heading towards the room where Ana had gotten fit. "I promise not to be long."

~:~

Will smiled automatically as Lady Hannah of Norton approached him. She curtsied, holding out her hand, as every other woman in the room had done. And he kissed her hand as he had for every other woman in the room. After a few moments of polite conversation she asked where his sister was. _Just like every other woman in the room has done,_ Will thought. So he gave her the same answer he had given every other woman in the room.

"I am not certain, but I believe she will arrive any moment."

Lady Hannah nodded, but did not move away. Instead she hovered, expectantly. _No doubt she wants me to ask her to dance._ But he didn't, and eventually Lady Hannah moved away. Will was too exasperated to notice. He'd been telling people that Lara would arrive any moment, for at least an hour. He'd already sent nearly a dozen servants to find her, but obviously they hadn't been successful.

_This Gods-forsaken ball was her idea in the first place! I wanted to cancel it, but she insisted!_ Will started to move towards the doors, fully intending to find Lara himself, but he was accosted by Lady Ingret of Westwood.

"Your Majesty," she said, curtsying. He bowed. She smiled up at him, batting long lashes at him. Lady Ingret was known as the most beautiful woman at court, but also the most ambitious. _She's probably been plotting how best to get me to propose to her since childhood._ "I've heard a rumor, Your Majesty, and I wanted to know if it is true." Will nodded for her to continue. "I heard that on your latest…" Will stopped listening. He'd just spotted Lara entering the room over Lady Ingret's shoulder.

His sister located him instantly, smiling impishly at him. He shot her an angry glare in return, but she just continued smiling and stepped farther into the room, revealing the person who'd been standing behind her.

Will's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the woman's red hair. It was Ana.

~:~

Lady Ingret's perfect smile faltered as she realized the King was no longer attending her, but staring at someone over her shoulder. Fighting down her temper she turned to see who had caught the King's attention.

For a moment she thought she was hallucinating. _The Lioness has been dead for a thousand years!_ Then she realized it was the mysterious Thaylian everyone had been gossiping about.

~:~

Ana tried unsuccessfully to quell her trembling hands as silence filled the ballroom. Every person in the room was staring at her, bringing forth miserable memories of the Court and how they too had stared at her. Just as she was steeling herself for mocking laughter, Lara spoke up. "May I introduce Lady Ana of Thaylia."

Ana sank into a curtsy, exactly like Lara had taught her to. There was a sudden murmur of voices, but no too loud laughter, no jeering comments. Ana took a deep breath and put on a friendly smile as a group of men and women moved in her direction. A glance at Lara found her talking to Will, their heads close together. _No escape there,_ Ana thought.

"Milady," a tall man approached her. "Duke Tessan of Pine's Ridge," he said. She curtsied, holding out her hand, just as Lara had taught her. Duke Tessan kissed it but did not let her hand go. "Would you favor me with a dance, Milady?"

Ana found her voice, but not without difficulty. "I'd be delighted."

The Duke led her to where several couples danced a stately allemande. Ana missed the jealous looks several of the men gave the Duke as he whirled her around the dance floor for several minutes, until the final phases of the song ended. The Duke opened his mouth, but before he could say anything another man cut in. "Lord Huggard of Angella." He too asked for a dance, and another man after him. Then one man following another, until Ana couldn't keep track of how many dances she'd danced with how many different partners.

Ana had just finished a dance with a blond haired man, whose name she couldn't remember, when a familiar voice came from behind her. "May I cut in?" Something leaped within Ana's breast; she knew that voice. Slowly Ana turned and found herself face to face with Will.

The blonde haired man had disappeared, but Ana hadn't noticed. She was looking into those laughing sapphire eyes.

_He has such beautiful eyes_, the thought rocketed out of nowhere, surprising even Ana. Blushing furiously, she forced herself to curtsy, lower than she had for any of her other partners, and when she rose he kissed her hand. "You look lovely," he said, pulling her close, as the dance required.

Ana forced a laugh. "It's the dress," she said trying to sound casual. "Even a monkey would look good–" Ana cut off. Will had a strange look on his face. It was like he was listening to something that no one else could hear. The moment stretched on, while Ana studied him curiously. Finally his face cleared and his eyes focused on her again. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What were you saying?" As he spoke his grip on her waist tightened, it was almost protective.

Ana shook her head, pushing aside the confusion that threatened to envelop her. "It wasn't really important, anyway." Will nodded, but his eyes weren't on her. They were scouring the room like a hawk searching for a mouse. It made her nervous.

When the song finally ended Ana curtsied, and made her excuses. She headed towards an empty bench, turning down partners as she went. Will watched her go, the expression on his face unreadable.

~ ~:~ ~


	24. Interlude on the Highway

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Wow. Thank you to my reviewers, especially KrisEleven, whose lovely and much appreciated reviews inspired me to write all night long instead of going out. I have fixed the author's note thing...I debated about it before I posted, but was lazy and decided to keep it. *sigh*

Anyway, onto:

Chapter Twenty-three: Interlude on the Highway

A lone rider galloped swiftly along a deserted road. The moon had just risen; its pearly whiteness illuminated the rider's tan cloak streaming behind him, the dark spots where blood had dried stark against the light fabric. In the distance the lights of Corus could be seen, atop a hill. The rider bent forward, silently urging his flagging horse onward.

Behind him the cries of his pursuers could be heard, closing in by the moment.

The rider spared only a second's glance behind him, but his worst fears were betrayed. He would not make it to the city limits before the hunters caught him. Grimly, he said a silent prayer to Mirthros and the Goddess, then, with his remaining Gift, he cast a small, but very important spell.

The spell sped toward the city lights, and the rider watched it go, until the last remnant of his Gift had faded. Then he took a small vial, filled with a yellow liquid, from his pocket. He reined in his horse and dismounted. "Sorry it had to be like this, old boy," he said to his horse. Then he rubbed a small amount of the liquid unto the horse's mouth. He turned as the leader of the hunters approached him.

"Someday you will hang for being the traitor you are," he said quietly and swallowed the remaining poison.

The leader watched as the man fell limply to the ground, dead even as his last words faded on the air. "You always were far too nosey for a Mage," the leader jeered, kicking the body.

One of the other pursuers approached the man. It walked with a staggering gait; half limp, half hop. "Milord," it hissed, "shall we dispose of them?"

The man nodded, "There must be no evidence this time, you left too much of Hare. It made them suspicious."

The creature hissed to another of its kind and they set about devouring the unfortunate rider and his horse. The leader watched the sickening scene dispassionately for a moment, then turned to the creature that had first spoken. "Lord Dubyn says to bring the Thaylian to him. I should be able to get her to come with me fairly easily, but I may need your help."

The creature spread its wings. "I await your orders."

The man smiled evilly. "Then this is what we do…"

~ ~:~ ~


	25. The Ball: Part Two

A Note from Nessa'fur:

As requested:

Chapter Twenty-four: The Ball: Part Two

Lucas stifled a yawn as he supped a glass of wine, watching Ana dance with the blonde-haired Lord Billingsford. _Now there's one woman who would make an excellent monarch,_ he thought, smiling even as she smiled politely at the Lord. _She's got just the right mixture of manners and disdain. I wonder if she was born of a high rank._ Ana had never mentioned her birth status, but he'd always just assumed she was noble. _Perhaps she's really royalty. After all, even Will doesn't know how many children the Empress has._

He watched as Will approached her. Her curtsy was from one monarch to another. _Who taught her how to curtsy?_ He asked himself, but he already knew the answer, _my wife._

He set down his wine-glass, determined to find out the truth, but before he could take one step the hapless rider's spell slammed into him full force.

Rob's face swam before his eyes, and the look of terror on his features was unmistakable. The cries of pursuers could be heard, closing in quickly in the background. Then came Rob's voice, full of urgency, _"I was wrong! She's more important than you could ever believe! The traitor wants to take her and give her to the Dark Lord, but she must not go to their side! You must protect her! Save her, save the Thaylian!"_

Lucas came back to himself with a start, Rob's final words still echoing in his mind, _Save her, __save the Thaylian!_ Immediately his eyes sought Ana on the dance floor. She was still in Will's arms. _At least I know she's safe there._

He hurried off to find his wife, hoping the song would last long enough for him to find her.

~:~

Will watched as Ana seated herself on an empty bench. Immediately she was surrounded by courtiers, all of which seemed to be men. Will pursed his lips, _how am I supposed to protect her when she's always surrounded by people?_ The answer was simple, he couldn't. Ana had to leave the ballroom. _And there is only one person who can get her to willingly leave._

He scanned the room looking for his sister. There, in the far corner! He hurried across the room, hoping to catch her alone.

_Too late_, he thought as Lucas approached Lara. _Well, I would have told Lucas about Rob's message anyway._

As he came closer he caught the tail end of what Lucas was saying to his wife. "…she's in danger. We have to get her out of this ballroom."

"And without much fuss," Will cut in.

Lucas turned, and for a moment confusion flickered on his face, then, at last, it dawned on him. "You heard it too?" he asked quietly.

Will glanced around; no one was close enough to hear. He nodded, "I think Rob's dead," he said solemnly.

A weary sigh escaped Lucas's lips, "I believe you are right, and there's nothing we could have done."

"Perhaps not," Lara broke in, "but we can do what he told us to." Both men turned to look at her. "I'm going to take her to the Upper Gallery," the men glanced at each other, but Lara plowed on, "She'd be safe there, and it would be an excellent chance to explain our _theory_."

Will shook his head, "What if something happens? You should have one of us with you."

She put her hands on her hips, "_You_ would be missed if you left the ball, and I need Lucas to search Ana's rooms," Lara gave a significant glance in her husband's direction. He muttered something, but started towards the exit. "So that leaves me, and I'm sure between Ana's Gift and my own we'll be able to fend for ourselves."

"You're quite the strategist, dear sister, but after you're done with your explanations would you kindly bring her to the Lesser Library?" Lara nodded, and they moved purposely in separate directions.

~ ~:~ ~


	26. The Chamber of the Lioness

Chapter Twenty-five: The Chamber of the Lioness

Ana was as surprised as anyone when Lara waded her way through the crowd of men and boys and offered the perfect excuse for escape. Her appearance was glorious in its timing…she didn't think she could politely decline the relentless requests to dance without losing her temper for very much longer. "My lady, you look very tired," Lara announced loudly. Then she bent down and whispered into Ana's ear, "I need to talk to you." Then louder, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take her away from you."

Ana tried hard to contain her impatience as man after man bid her farewell, and then her relief at being saved. "I can never thank you enough," she announced when they finally gained the silence of the hallway, "I thought they were going to suffocate me! I don't understand why they were so attentive to me; I wasn't the prettiest girl there."

Lara smiled. "Maybe not the prettiest," Lara replied, steering Ana down a side corridor, "but definitely the most fascinating."

"What do you mean, fascinating?"

The smile on Lara's face grew considerably. "You're a good little actress, dear, but you won't be able to hide yourself forever. It was rather obvious that you are of royal blood."

That drew an unladylike snort from Ana, "Well _you_ may have thought it obvious, but no one else seemed to notice."

"Oh they noticed, Ana. They are just exceptionally good at hiding it." Lara stopped in front of a plain-looking door. "Ah, here we are."

"Where is that?" Ana didn't recognize anything about this area of the palace; apparently it had been left out of her tour.

Lara didn't answer; instead she took a small bunch of keys from around her neck. She unlocked the door, but didn't open it. A moment's pause revealed why.

The door began to glow a soft blue. Lara whispered a few nonsense words, and it swung open of its own accord.

The inside of the room looked like an empty broom cupboard.

Ana raised an eyebrow. "This is what you wanted to show me?" she asked incredulously.

Lara rolled her eyes, stepping into the bare little closet. She ran her hand over the inner wall, her fingers tracing invisible shapes on the plaster wall. "These rooms are protected by many layers of enchantment. It is a very sacred place, open only to those who know how to enter it."

Her hands finished in their movement, and suddenly the wall melted away, revealing a long corridor paneled in a dark, glossy wood. There were torches burning brightly at regular intervals, but despite the illumination, Ana could not see what lay beyond the hallway. Lara smiled at her, then gestured for her to go first.

Ana stepped into the hallway, Lara close behind her. She took a few steps forward, but then looked back uncertainly at Lara. She gasped as she realized that the doorway and the little room beyond had disappeared, replaced by another smooth panel of dark wood.

"Don't worry," Lara said, "There is nothing here to harm you…in fact, there is no place better protected in this entire castle."

Ana nodded, still a little uncertain, but continued along the hallway. The air seemed to hum and pulse about her; she could almost hear it, a playful tune that hovered and danced just out of the range of her hearing. As she moved further down the corridor the music became clearer and clearer, weaving and twisting into a haunting melody that teased her memory. She took the last few steps and the music built to a crescendo, flowing seamlessly into the notes of her lullaby.

_Hush now little one, fear not the night. The Lioness will watch over you tonight._

Ana stepped into a room ablaze with color, vibrant from floor to ceiling. On the walls hung beautiful tapestries, illustrating battle scenes, hunting scenes, landscapes. The floor was covered with thousands of mosaic tiles, each one different. There were painted chests and vases, and, in the center of the room, two stately chairs covered in rich brocade. There was only one thing that everything in the room had in common, and that was a red-haired, violet-eyed woman. Everything in the room depicted the Lioness.

Ana realized her mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it.

There was a small click as Lara shut the door behind her. The older woman caught the look of amazement on Ana's face and quickly explained, "It is sort of a family secret," she said, gesturing. "Only Will and I know how to open that door, Lucas and Marc are the only other people who know about it."

"What is it?" Ana whispered.

"Well, that will take some explaining, so please, take a seat." Lara bustled off as Ana settled herself in one of the intimidating but beautiful chairs. Lara returned a moment later with two glasses of wine. Handing Ana one of the glasses she continued, "Where people can hear us we call this place the Upper Gallery, but in truth it's called the Chamber of the Lioness."

"Why the secret?" Ana asked, gaping around her. "Everyone should be able to see this room."

Lara took her time answering. "If we allowed people in here things would get dirty, things would get broken, but most importantly, things would get stolen. This place would be a treasure trove for thieves and collectors. No," she shook her head. "This place is best kept secret."

"Then why did you bring me here?"

Her answer was serious, "I brought you here, because we: Lucas, Will, and myself, believe that you are somehow connected to the Lioness. You could have been her identical twin if you hadn't been born a thousand years apart…

"The Prophecies say that the Lioness will come again in Tortall's greatest hour of need, and I would certainly say that we will have great need of a Champion in the coming war."

Ana was staring at her untouched glass of wine. "Everyone talks about the Lioness, the Last Champion, but I know so little of her and why she is so important to Tortall."

So Lara told her, about the girl-child who had disguised herself as a boy to train as a knight. About the curse in the Black City, and about The-Woman-Who-Rides-Like-A-Man. Lara went on to explain about King Jonathon's coronation day and the Immortals War, and finally she came to the Scanran War.

"It was in the twenty-ninth year of King Jonathon's reign that two new kinds of immortals were discovered, Demons and Imps. They were both horrid creatures, said to be cursed by the Gods. Demons are winged creatures of great strength, with the ability to disappear into shadows, though they can only move very slowly while on the ground. Imps are far worse. They are Immortals, but they look just as any normal human would look on the outside. They are cunning, cruel beasts with incredible speed and a thirst for blood. They had a great and terrible magic on their side as well—for they were not of this world, but carried with them all the darkest secrets of their own. Many Demons and three Imps allied with the Scanrans to invade Tortall. It seemed, at the beginning, that Tortall might win the war, but soon the tides began to turn. First one fief, then more and more fell to the merciless Scanrans and their inhuman allies. Soon Corus itself was under siege, trapping the King and most of his advisors inside.

"And then the Imps sent a messenger to King Jonathon, with the terms of a surrender. They swore that they would leave this land forever if Jonathon would give them Alanna the Lioness as a sacrifice."

Lara paused in her narration, her face sad and sober. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, "Tortall had been pushed to its brink and everyone knew it would soon fall. It was then that Tortall entered its darkest hour. The people of Tortall cried out for the Lioness to save them, once again. She was their Champion; it was her duty and her promise to serve Tortall and its people. The nobles called for her head, eager to spare their own. So King Jonathon surrendered to the wishes of his people and accepted the terms of the Imps, though to do so was to surrender the one who had served him so faithfully as his Champion and friend to a fate worse than death. "

"We betrayed her," Lara said, her voice flat.

She looked up at Ana, her eyes shining.

"And she went gladly to her death, determined to save her people." Lara whispered.

"Alanna was fighting at her home, Pirates Swoop, when the news came that the capital was besieged. She rode out alone, leaving her army to defend her home, as she raced towards the city. She rode six days straight, finally arriving on the seventh day. When she got there, she managed to make her way to the leader of the Imp's tent and catch him by surprise. She challenged the imp, Duvon PeRon, to one on one combat, and, though she was greatly disadvantaged, she managed to defeat him. It was then that the tides changed for Tortall, for Duvon had not trusted his dark armies, and he had bonded his warriors to himself, so, when he died they did too. The remaining Scanrans were quickly dispatched by Alanna's army, led by her husband and squire, which had followed her to Corus.

"The war had been won, but not without grave consequences. Many precious artifacts had been lost and many cities and fiefs destroyed. The Lioness died from the wounds inflicted on her, leaving a grieving family and a grieving country."

Lara's sad eyes met Ana's, and in her eyes was the grief of Tortall.

"She died for us to live on, but with her died more than just a brave and valiant warrior. They say that the Gods cursed the people of Tortall for their betrayal of the Lioness by creating the Blight, which kills off any unfortunate adolescents who do not learn to master their Gifts. And then they left us, left us to live with the consequences of our own actions."

Ana had silent tears running down her face, mourning for the Lioness and for Tortall. After a moment Lara stood up, quietly exiting the room, and giving Ana time to recover from what she had just heard.

Many long moments passed before Ana, too, go up. She wandered around the Chamber of the Lioness, sipping her wine and studying the various paintings and tapestries. There were also more rooms, and Ana explored them all, finally stepping into the last.

A huge painting graced the center of the room, bigger than any other she had yet seen. Alanna sat next to another person, grinning happily. Ana studied that face, so much like her own, yet so different. After a while her gaze moved to the other person.

The wineglass slipped from numb fingers, shattering on the tile floor. Ana staggered backwards, her eyes never leaving that second face. "Lara!" she cried hoarsely. "Lara! Lara!"

~ ~:~ ~


	27. Rising Action

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing! I know that it includes the last time, but wow, over 1200 reviews! I won't claim your attention much longer, I just wanted to jump in and say thanks and that I will clear some things up about the last chapter at the end of this chapter (oh goddess, if you guys were mad at me for the cliffy at the end of the last chapter then you will hate me for this one)...

Chapter Twenty-six: Rising Action

Lara reentered the Chamber of the Lioness to find Ana gone. She sat down, waiting for the younger woman to return.

The sound of glass breaking, made Lara jump up. _The fool girl has broken something! _ Lara thought, striding farther into the Chamber.

It was the frantic tone of Ana's voice that made her run; _not an easy feat for a pregnant woman._ She finally found the younger woman in the last room, standing in a puddle of wine and a smattering of broken glass, staring at the painting in front of her.

"Ana, what's the matter?" She cried, concerned.

Ana turned to look at her, her mouth open, but no words were forthcoming. "Who," she finally managed to choke out, "Who is that?" She was pointing to the painting that graced the center of the room. Lara took a step closer to study it.

"It's the Lioness and her twin brother Thom of Trebond," had she mentioned Alanna's brother's name when she'd explained it earlier? _I don't think I did._

Ana shook her head, her eyes closed. "No…no," was all she said.

Lara clasped her shoulders, "Ana! What is the matter?"

Ana seemed to come to herself. She inhaled a shaky breath, and looked Lara straight in the eye. "Thom Trebond was my father."

"Oh," Lara gasped, "Oh, my." It was the only thing Lara could say, but Ana seemed to understand.

~:~

Lara sat, sipping a cup of tea as Ana paced in front of her. Four steps to the fireplace, four steps back. They had left the Chamber of the Lioness and were sitting in the Lavender Suites. "What I don't understand," Ana said, as she walked, "is how he managed to get to _Thaylia_ over a thousand years in the future."

"He was a great sorcerer," Lara murmured, "he brought back a man from the dead once. Perhaps he could time travel too."

"But a _thousand years?_"

Lara stared at the ceiling. "Perhaps the Gods gave him a helping hand."

Ana plopped down beside Lara. "I always wondered why he disappeared when I was little." A half sob burst from Ana's lips as she remembered, "Darius told me that he was always very serious, almost arrogant, but he did not seem to care about rank or fortune. That's what mother loved about him; he didn't care that she was the Empress_, may she live forever_. But sometimes I think that he had only really loved me and not my mother." Suddenly Ana looked up at Lara, an expression of wonder dawning on her face.

"He used to sing me a lullaby," she whispered, and then she sang softly:

"_Hush now little one, fear not the night. _

_The Lioness will watch over you tonight. _

_Hush now little one, please don't cry. _

_I go to war, but not to die. _

_Hush now little one, I won't be long. _

_Please forgive me when I've gone. _

_Hush now little one, fear not the night. _

_The Lioness will watch over you tonight."_

Lara stared into Ana's violet eyes and knew that this girl was the blood of the Lioness.

"He knew he would leave you," she said quietly.

Ana nodded, her eyes shining bright with tears. "And he knew that when the time came I would understand what he really meant by his song."

"But what did he really mean?" Lara asked, puzzled.

Ana knew the answer, "He means that my Gift is important, and that I must not lose it. He means that the Lioness is with me, and will watch over my fate."

Lara thought about that for several moments. _Ana's father somehow traveled one thousand years into the future to woo her mother, the Empress of Thaylia, and have a child by her. Then he returned to his own time and died, overpowered by a spell he could not contain. He left her a warning and a comfort in a lullaby that she would eventually understand…_It was too much, she needed to talk to her husband about this new development; he always seemed to make things clearer.

"I'm going to get some more tea," Lara announced, intruding on the silence. "I'll be back soon."

Ana nodded, but her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

Lara started to head towards the Lesser Library, but Kari Millner, the Head of Housekeeping stopped her before she got very far. "There is a problem, my Lady," She informed her, her weathered face grave, "One of the stables has been set on fire."

~:~

Will paced restlessly across the library floor. Every time someone passed in the hallway he would look up, but it was never Ana and Lara. Lucas would do the same, from his vantage-point in front of the fireplace.

Finally a servant entered the room, and both men looked at him expectantly. "Your Highness, My Lord," he bowed to both of them. "Fire has been set to one of the stables!"

There was a moment of shocked silence as they absorbed what the servant had just said, then both men jumped up, following the servant as they grilled him for details about the fire. Yes, it was an occupied stable. No, the fire hadn't spread. Suddenly up ahead Will spotted his sister, still in her ballroom gown. "Lara!" he called. She turned and raced towards them. Ana wasn't with her.

"Where is Ana?" He asked as she approached.

A shocked look appeared on her face, "Mirthros! She's alone in her rooms!"

Will felt a cold hand clutch at his heart. _She's alone in her rooms, and a stable has been set on fire..._ Lucas grabbed his arm. "The fire is a distraction!" But Will didn't hear him, he'd already started running.

Lucas followed, only a step behind. Lara watched them go, then turned back to see what she could do about the stables, saying a silent prayer to the Goddess that her friend was okay.

~:~

Ana stood on her balcony, silently breathing in the cool night air. A million thoughts were racing through her head, as she leaned outward over the railing. The day had brought much to think about.

Behind her the door of her room slid silently open.

Ana closed her eyes, banishing thoughts of her father and of the ball. What she really wanted to know was—

There was a creak as the intruder stepped upon a loose floorboard. Ana whirled and her eyes widened as she took in the full breadth of the creature. Its skin was black, leathery, and seemed to fade into the shadows. Its wings were folded clumsily over its back, making it hard for the creature to walk. The creature could have been a giant lizard with wings if not for its face. Two blood red eyes stared at her from a human face, and when it opened its mouth she saw sharp, blood encrusted teeth.

"I have come for you, Champion," the demon hissed.

~ ~:~ ~

Another Note from Nessa'fur:

Ah, I warned you didn't I? And to anticipate the questions I know will be forthcoming--yes, Thom is actually her father. Yes, I know this seems impossible. Yes, I will explain later (My friends say that I am a tease. I guess it is true.)

As for the 'Scanran' War (aka the Imp War)--no, I had not intended it to be the same war that was being fought during POTS. In fact, if my notes are correct, _my _Scanran war should have been fought approximately seven years after the end of Lady Knight and five years after the end of Trickster's Queen. Perhaps the confusion arises from the fact that the Tortallians refer to them both as the Scanran war--the truth is, I had imagined them to be really part of the same overall conflict of ideology between Scanra and Tortall. It just so happened that in the year 469 the Scanrans unexpectedly gained three very powerful allies that allowed them to once again take up the campaign against Tortall.

I'm sorry if it breaks a bit from cannon, but (as I have mentioned before) I'm going off of my imperfect memories of the books (and Lisa Konst's awesome timeline of the Tortall Universe).

Thanks for putting up with me anyway! And a belated happy Ides of March to all! Spring is coming :)

~Nessa'fur


	28. Betrayal

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Today is my second-favorite holiday of the year! (Halloween is my fave) So to celebrate, I'm posting my second favorite chapter of the old story (my favorite chapters of the new version are long, long in the coming, but I'll let you know when they are arrive :) I suggest listening to Snow Patrol, "Run" while reading this chappie; the music and rhythm just seems to flow with the events unfolding (or, at least, they did when I was editing it). And to sarasbistarfire, Dom-Loves-Kel, and everyone else who has been asking canon questions--don't stop! I really do want to keep this story to flow with the canon TP created, and I appreciate your questions because they help me to bring this story into line with that lovely universe. Thanks for the awesome reviews! Keep 'em coming :)

Now, without further ado, I present to you:

Chapter Twenty-seven: Betrayal

Ana backed up slowly until she felt the press of the banister unto her back. She had no weapons, not even a dagger, _except_…

The creature was lurching towards her, but it could only move very slowly. _And it's blocking my only escape._ Ana pressed harder against the banister, and pretended to cower in fear. The creature laughed evilly as it made it's way to her, _just as the spidren did._ But this time she wasn't defenseless.

Ana raised her hands and said a quick incantation. Fire poured from her hands, bathing the monster in hot, purple flames. But it didn't even break stride.

"Oh, no…" Ana gulped as she realized that her magic didn't have any effect on it at all.

The creature came closer, until it was face to face with her. "I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Champion," it said, its foul breath making Ana's stomach threaten to lost its contents.

"No, you're not." a voice said, from behind the creature. A sword flashed, and the terrible mockery of a human head rolled unto the floor. Ana sagged against the banister, filled with such relief that she started crying.

"Here, love, let's get inside." Ana looked up, and a gasp was torn from her lungs.

Her savior was none other than, "Marc!"

~:~

"When did you return?" Ana breathlessly asked, as Marc pulled her away from the dead beast.

"Only a few moments ago," he replied, smiling at her. "I decided to come to see you right away." He gazed down at her, concern etched across his face. "I'm glad I did, because that's the second monster I've had to kill to protect you. You should learn to defend yourself, better."

Ana looked thoughtful for a moment, then threw her arms around Marc's neck. "Why should I? You'll protect me won't you?"

Marc didn't respond to the question, instead he ran his eyes over her, his brown eyes twinkling as they roved over her bared arms and shoulders. "You look a vision," he said, smiling, "That dress is quite stunning on you. I approve."

Ana blushed; she had completely forgotten that she still wore her ball gown. She dropped her arms, stepping away from him, but he grasped her hands in his. "We should get inside, beautiful," Marc said, leading her off of the balcony, "They always work in pairs." He gestured at the corpse.

"What is it?" Ana asked, complying with his request. She pulled out of his warm grasp and strode into her sitting room, plopping herself down on one of the purple couches. All the fear of the previous moment had vanished, replaced by a happy bliss that bubbled up inside of her.

"A demon," Marc said, grimly wiping his sword on a ragged cloth. Ana recalled what Lara had said about demons. _They certainly fit the description._

Out loud she wondered, "If there are demons around, does that mean that there are imps too?"

Marc looked up sharply, an unreadable expression on his face. "You know about demons and imps?"

Ana nodded. "Lara told me the story of the Last Champion," she said.

Marc stood up, picking up his sword and standing over her. "What did she tell you?"

Glancing nervously at the sword, Ana said, "Everything about Alanna the Lioness. She said that," Ana hesitated, swallowing, "that I should know."

Marc was staring at her; his brown eyes no longer warm but hard and cold. "So they know you are the Champion," he said. Ana's eyes widened as she recognized the name that the demon had called her, but Marc was still talking, his handsome features twisted into a horribly malicious leer. "My master said they would eventually find out, but he did not know if they yet knew. He said that you could be a danger if they knew."

Ana was trembling; something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Who," she said, nervously licking her lips. "Who is your master?"

Marc leaned in close until his nose almost touched hers. "Lord Dubyn."

"Traitor." she spat, but her voice quavered. She felt herself breaking, breaking beneath the horrible realization. Ana could not believe this was happening. No, it could not be true…he was playing some distasteful joke on her…

He chuckled, making Ana jump. "That's what Rob said before he killed himself. He was a dumb old fool, thinking he could warn my perfect little brother about me!" he smiled at Ana, and she flinched, "but he died for his trouble. Just as my brother will die!"

"Your brother?" Ana asked, in an attempt to distract him.

Marc looked thoughtful. "They didn't tell you did they?"

"Who didn't tell me what?" Ana asked, inching away from the sword pointed at her.

"My _siblings_," Marc hissed, once again leaning in close. "Lady Laranata and William of Conte."

Ana stared. "Your Will's _brother?_" she asked, incredulously. Marc looked furious that she didn't believe him.

"I _am_ their brother!" he shouted, "and I _will_ kill them both! They took the throne from me. They took the throne from _me_!" he grabbed her by the neck, lifting her off the couch. Ana gasped for air, but her throat was blocked, her windpipe crushed by the strong hands which had once stroked her face so gently. "Our father shouldn't have married their _damn_ mother! _My_ mother should have been queen!" Ana struggled, kicking her legs, but Marc just stared at her with blank eyes. He whispered to her, not loosening his grip on her neck. "And now I get my revenge. Will has everything I've ever wanted, but," he smiled cruelly as Ana began to lose consciousness. "I got the only thing he's ever wanted…you."

~:~

Will raced through the near empty halls with Lucas close behind. Both men were running faster than they had ever needed to in their entire lives, both for the same reason. _If she dies,_ Will thought putting on an extra burst of speed, _Gods, if she dies! _He could not bring himself to finish the thought.

They rounded a bend and saw the door to the Lavender Suites standing partially open. Will fought back the need to cry out._ Don't be dead. Gods, please, don't let her be dead!_

He burst into the room and greeted the scene before him. Ana was two feet off the ground, being strangled by none other than _Marc_. Will didn't hesitate. There was no room for thought or inaction. He flung out his hand and Marc was struck by an invisible fist of air. He dropped Ana in shock, stumbling backwards and clutching his jaw. Looking up at the two angry men facing him, Marc gave a piercing whistle and bolted toward the balcony. Lucas followed, but Will ignored them.

He knelt down beside Ana, checking her over with his blue Gift. After a moment she opened her eyes. "Marc's a traitor," she murmured, blinking slowly. Her voice was terribly hoarse and he could see the beginnings of dark bruises on her slender neck.

_I will kill him. _Will thought. _I will kill him and I will relish the experience of making it a long and painful death._

"I know," Will murmured. She tried to sit up, but Will pushed her back down. "Rest a moment."

She nodded weakly and closed her eyes. Will, put his hand on her forehead, making sure she would sleep. He studied her for a moment and sighed once, a long release. Then he picked her up and headed towards the infirmary.

~:~

Lucas ran across the room, pursuing Marc. The traitor was whistling shrilly again as he faced Lucas, sword drawn. "I've wanted to do this for a long time," Marc informed him, charging in for the attack.

Lucas fumbled for his sword, drawing it just in time to counter his opponent's attack.

The battle had begun.

Lucas was kept on the defensive as Marc continued to attack. He was pushed slowly backwards as the blows flew from every direction. Suddenly, Lucas side-stepped a thrust and managed to slice Marc's arm. Marc lurched away, quickly switching sword arms and started attacking again, leaving no room for Lucas to retaliate.

Lucas was forced backwards, until he suddenly tripped over the body of a…_Gods, it's a demon!_ Marc stood over him, his sword at Lucas's throat. "Say your last words, _Lord Commander_."

From high above a shrill cry was heard. Marc looked up at the sky, distracted. Lucas took the opportunity to roll away from the sword pointed at him, just as Marc turned back to finish him. Lucas exploded from the ground and managed to pin Marc against the balcony railing, knocking Marc's sword out of his grip. For a moment Marc looked defeated, but then he smiled as he gazed into a spot just over Lucas's shoulder. "I'll be seeing you in hell, Commander." he said and flipped backwards off the balcony.

Shocked, Lucas peered over the edge, just in time to see Marc's fall stopped by another demon, which soared up and flew north. Lucas watched it go. "I'll be waiting, traitor."

~ ~:~ ~


	29. Resolutions

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Happy Birthday to me! Last night as St. Patrick's Day waned, I became a legal adult—at last! Of course, now I can be arrested for hanging out with drunken minors (as so many of my friends are). *Sigh* But, on the bright side, at least I can now finally work on that life-long ambition to compile the list of the most awesome drinks ever (both of the coffee/barista sort and the alcohol/bartender sort) so as to be able to win the barista/bartender FACE OFF! (That only exists in my head...)

Anyway, here's another chapter, since I can't send cake and party favors. Alas, this will be the last chapter in awhile, cause my parents are stealing my internet and taking it to San Diego. (They are taking my internet, but not me. I feel a bit cheated.) Luckily this is a good place to take a little break.

Thanks for all of the reviews! Expect another update probably Sunday evening/Monday morning.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Twenty-eight: Resolutions

Ana slowly blinked herself awake. Her eyes were heavy, but she didn't want to sleep anymore. She lay there staring up at the ceiling, and wondering how she'd gotten into her bed. The last thing she remembered was—

It all came crashing back to her. The ball, the Chamber of the Lioness, and, on top of it all, Marc's betrayal. It was amazing what could happen in just one day.

She sat up. The blankets fell away from her and she realized that she was completely naked beneath the sheets. _Well, now is as good a time as any to get up and dressed,_ she decided, sliding out from underneath the covers.

A quick survey of her wardrobe produced a clean set of clothes. She put on the undergarments and stepped into the soft breeches. Just as she was starting to pull the tunic over her head she caught her own reflection in the full-length mirror suspended on the wall. Ugly purple welts encircled her neck where Marc had tried to strangle her.

Leaning closer to the mirror, she studied the bruises. _You can make out exactly where each of his fingers lay._ A shiver ran through her body, reminding her that she was only half clothed. Just as she finished pulling the tunic over her head, she heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come." She said, lacing the tunic high on her neck, so that it covered the bruises.

Lucas and Will entered the room, looking grim. For a moment there was an awkward silence, then

Ana spoke up. "Marc's a traitor," she stated, bluntly.

Will smiled, but it did not reach his hard, blue eyes. "We figured that out when we saw him trying to kill you." He went on to explain about Rob's message, and how they had known she was in danger.

Ana frowned at them.

"You _knew_ I was in danger," she said, "but you didn't think to warn me?"

Will and Lucas looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Lara was supposed to bring you to the Lesser Library after she explained to you about the Lioness. We were to meet there to discuss what to do…" Lucas explained that Lara had been distracted by the fire in the stables. "…it was put out though, and no one was hurt."

"No one except me," Ana snorted, bitterly. She fingered her throat. _This is the second time I've been attacked like that. Next time I might not have someone there to save me if I can't use my Gift._ Another thought intruded, hurting her with its sharp reminder, _After all, your hero turned out to be a villain. _She pushed the thought away, focusing on her anger at not being able to defend herself properly. Never again would she have to rely on someone else to keep her from harm. The solution was obvious.

Will was asking her if she would mind if they assigned one of the Own to guard her. "Yes," she replied sharply, "I would mind."

They looked shocked.

"What if I'm attacked and they are injured? What if they are killed? What would I do then? How would I defend myself? Magic doesn't work on everything, I learned that. Besides," she plowed on, her anger shaping her words. "I am sick of being the damsel in distress! I hate that whenever I get into a tight spot I have to have a _man_ save me! It may be a law or a tradition or whatever that Tortallian women don't train in combat, but _I_ am not Tortallian and _I_ _am going to learn to fight_!"

And then her voice faltered and died because she remembered that she _was_ Tortallian.

She was the blood of the Lioness, come back to Tortall in its time of need. How could she defend Tortall as the Lioness had done before when she could not even defend herself? _I cannot_, Ana realized, and the uncertainty left her eyes, which shone as hard and clear as gemstones.

Another thought struck her.

Did Will and Lucas know?

_No, _Ana answered herself, as she sat down on her bed, arms crossed, waiting for their answer. _They do not know, and now is not the time to tell that tale. Let it wait. They have kept their secrets from me for so long; let them wait to learn of mine._

It took her a moment to realize that neither of them was paying any attention to her. Will was glaring at Lucas, and Lucas was staring intently at the window!

"Were you listening?" she asked, harshly.

Neither answered her, instead Will addressed Lucas. "You didn't ask her? You were so adamant that I give my permission, but you didn't tell her?"

Ana felt a flash of irritation as she looked between the two men. "Tell me what?" she growled, a good guess in her mind as to the answer.

Lucas mumbled something about waiting until she was ready.

"Until I was ready for _what_?" Ana demanded.

Finally Will turned to her with a sigh. "The day after you were attacked by that spidren Lucas approached me and asked if he could train you in the art of combat. I said yes, but he never asked you did he?"

Ana shook her head, frowning. Lucas defended himself by saying, "I was going to, but something kept telling me to wait!"

Her anger sparked, Ana turned to Lucas, her eyes flashing. "If you had trained me then, I wouldn't have this!" She pulled down the neck of her tunic, exposing her bruised neck. At the sight of the dark welts crisscrossing across her throat, both men jumped up.

"Those weren't there when I checked on her this morning," Lucas stated, grimly. "I thought Tohmas said that he healed her bruises?"

Will frowned, his eyes on her neck. "Chin up," he said, lifting the named feature with a finger. Ana glowered at the ceiling as they studied the bruises. She did not enjoy being made to feel like a pawn in the hands of the Tortallian King. She was not his to move and pose like a porcelain doll that might break at any moment. Finally, she was allowed to look down and glare at each of the men in turn. They didn't seem to notice.

"It could just be from Marc." Lucas suggested.

Will was shaking his head. "Maybe, but I want to have Tohmas examine her again anyway."

"Why?" Ana asked. "What's wrong? Are the bruises bad?"

They both shrugged. "Maybe yes, maybe no, we're not sure. That is why we're going to have Tohmas check you out."

~:~

"I think she should be ready to compete in the Knighthood Trials," Will told Lucas, as they waited for Tohmas to finish examining Ana. "You'll have about eleven weeks to train her and get her back here before they begin." Lucas nodded his understanding. "You should probably leave as soon as possible, maybe tonight, or tomorrow morning."

"I was thinking about taking her to Silverlee," Lucas informed the King. "It's probably the safest place she could be, except for here."

The door opened and Tohmas came out, leading Ana behind him. "She's just fine," the healer told them, "I do not know why my healing spell did not hold, but it seems that the bruises are just that, bruises. They should fade within a few days." There was an uncomfortable silence. Neither Will nor Lucas wanted to say anything in Tohmas's presence, both made wary by the same thought: there was no telling who else might be a spy or traitor. Tohmas got the silent hint and exited, muttering about things he had to do.

"I never did thank you for saving my life," Ana said a little sheepishly, after another awkward silence. "if you hadn't come, I'd be dead." Her voice broke. Both men stood up, worriedly, but Ana waved for them to sit down. She continued, "I'm thankful, but there is something I have to know. When Marc was strangling me he told me that he was your…" she swallowed, "your brother."

Lucas and Will exchanged a glance. They both seemed to be waiting for the other to speak.

A voice spoke from behind them. "It's true. He was our brother." Everyone turned to find Lara standing in the doorway. She was holding a tray of refreshments. "Its nice to see you awake, Ana. I brought tea." There were only two cups on the tray. Throwing a significant look towards her brother and husband, she crossed the room and set the tea service on the table.

Both men bid Ana goodbye and beat a hasty retreat. As he was leaving the room Lucas called over his shoulder. "I'll have the servants pack for you, we will be leaving tomorrow."

Lara poured a cup of tea, then asked if Ana liked cream or sugar.

"I'll take it plain, thank you." Ana murmured.

There was a moment while Lara poured herself a cup of tea, then she looked up and asked, "Are you going somewhere?"

Ana explained about Lucas training her. When she had finished Lara nodded in satisfaction. "Yes," the older woman said, "I thought you would be the one to change things. Unfortunately that means I won't see you for quite a long time."

"Oh," Ana murmured, surprised, "I figured that you'd come with us, since you're Lucas's wife."

A quiet laugh rippled from Ana's friend. "My dear, I'm afraid that you have forgotten that I am also the King's sister. I would love to see my home again, but I'm needed here, to help my brother, especially in Lucas's absence. And besides," She smiled, "I could not leave the children here by themselves, they are always getting into trouble in the city rather than doing their studies," She shook her head.

The mention of Lara's brother brought Ana back to an earlier subject. "How could Marc have been your brother?"

Lara sighed. "It is a long story, so make yourself comfortable. I will try to shorten it." Lara took another sip of her tea, then set it down. "My father was notorious for being fond of women. Many women. Before—and after—he married my mother he had many lovers. One of them was a noblewoman he met while visiting the Yamani Islands. She, in an effort to get him to leave my mother and marry her, removed the charm that he gave her. It prevents you from getting pregnant. Do you know what those are?" Ana nodded, she had one that Tohmas had given her just moments ago, during her rather embarrassing examination. She blushed again as she felt its weight heavy around her neck. Lara continued, "It was not long before the woman conceived, and bore a son, Marc. My father had left the Yamani Islands shortly after she learned she was pregnant. He was angry when he learned that she had removed his charm, and refused to acknowledge the child as his. My father exiled the woman and her baby, declaring that neither could ever step foot in Tortall and live. He returned to Tortall my mother, Lady Rhonna, and promptly forgot about the whole episode, as was his way.

"Nine months later, Will was born, and everyone else forgot about the incident as well, distracted by the unexpected arrival of a male heir." A light came into Lara's eyes. "I'd been named the heir to the throne, for it had been nine years since I'd been born, and, though there had been several miscarriages and still-births over the years, my mother had failed to carry through a pregnancy. She had given up on ever bearing another child, and so his birth was a miraculous thing…though it was what killed her in the end." She was quiet for a moment, then she looked up, her eyes shining with tears. "But I never blamed Will for her death," Lara whispered, "Because from the first instant I saw my baby brother I knew he was destined to be king."

And then her eyes closed, and she looked pained. "The Yamani noblewoman must not have agreed…she must have told Marcus that he was the son of a king, and furthermore, the oldest son of a king.

"Years passed, then came the day that Marc's mother died. He was only fourteen, but he made his way across the ocean, working as a cabin boy on a trading ship, to Corus, where he made a plea to the King, for he had no kin other than his mother, and no one to turn to but himself. My father remembered the woman who had tricked him, and saw the color of the boy's hair and eyes, which were just like his own.

"My father took him in, and finished raising him in the castle. He became an excellent swordsman, second only to his half-brother, Will." A sigh escaped Lara's lips. "He was always so wonderful to us, I never thought that he might be a traitor. He always seemed contented to serve Tortall as knight and Spymaster, but I suppose he was really seething with jealousy on the inside."

Lara finished her story, and watched as various emotions flickered across Ana's face. Surprise, anger, and perhaps even sadness were all reflected there. Lara could only imagine what she was thinking.

At last Ana's eyes became focused on her surroundings again. "I've put him behind me," she announced resolutely, "I had convinced myself that I was in love with him, but…" Ana turned towards Lara. "What you and Lucas have is real love, what I thought I had was just an act." For a moment Ana's eyes filled with tears. Blinking furiously, she turned her face away from Lara and inhaled a shaky breath. A moment later she turned back, and smiled weakly at Lara. "Just an act, nothing more."

Ana picked up her warm tea, her composure regained. "Tomorrow I'm going with Lucas to become whatever it is that I'm destined to become. But for the moment, I just want to relax."

Lara smiled, _she is taking this exceptionally well._ Aloud she said, "Perhaps you'd like a stroll in the gardens."

The younger woman considered that a moment. "As long as there is no chance of running into any handsome young men than that would be lovely."

Lara laughed, "I think it can be arranged."

~ ~:~ ~


	30. Silverlee

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Argh. Sorry about the long wait, ya'll. I meant to post this chapter like...every day this week, but life intervened. Life, natural disasters, germs, minor friendship upheavals...and Monk, which I have become fatally addicted to. Adrian Monk: if you were real you would be my hero.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Twenty-nine: Silverlee

Doris O'Brien had lived in Silverlee her entire life. She'd been born in the castle, raised in it, and intended to die within its stone walls. Her mother had been Housekeeper to the current Lord of Silverlee's grandfather and when the old woman had passed away Doris had inherited the role. Every day for sixty-seven years she had overseen the everyday goings on in the household, keeping the servants on task, taking care of the accounts, and other miscellaneous jobs that the master and mistress shouldn't be bothered with.

Doris, or Doll as everyone called her, had outlived two of her former master's and seemed fit enough to outlive two more. She'd inherited flaming red hair and violet eyes from her mother, and often joked that she was the Lioness come again. "But instead of using swords," she'd say, "I fight my battles with a sharp tongue and willow switch!" But for all her threats, Doll had never raised her voice at a lazy scullery maid or whipped an ill-mannered stable boy.

Doll's most precious possession was a small ornate box that her mother had given her the day she became a woman, on her thirteenth birthday. The outside of the box was carved all over with runes written in a language that neither Doll nor her mother could read, and it could not be opened, its contents a mystery. As a child Doll had played a game, trying to guess what was inside the box and how to unlock it. She'd never been able to, but then, neither had her mother or her mother's mother.

Even as an adult she had sometimes tried to unlock the secret of the box, but her efforts were always in vain.

Today was no different from any other day. The box still refused to open and now Doll was faced with another worry. The box had been passed from mother to daughter for hundreds of years until it had reached Doll, but now it could be passed no further, for Doll had no children whom she could give the box to. And she wasn't getting any younger, her red hair had long since turned to gray, and her wrinkles were developing wrinkles.

_I will just have to find someone that I can trust to pass the box on to,_ she thought for the hundredth time, studying the intricate swirls and curves on the box. But therein was the problem. There was no one she had yet met that she would trust to give such a treasured heirloom to. _But this is problem that will have to wait, _Doll thought, putting the box back into its hiding place. _Right now there are chores that need to be done._

Doll dressed slowly, trying to ignore the creaking in her bones. Finally she had finished, and she opened the door to rouse the household and start breakfast. But as she opened the door, she found the corridor already full of bustling servants, hard at work. _Perhaps I slept in,_ she thought, wondering how she could have done such a thing when she had gotten up at five o'clock every day for sixty-seven years. _Perhaps old age is starting to catch up with me. _She headed for the kitchens.

Glancing at the clock that hung above the stoves Doll was shocked to see it was only four fifty-two in the morning. "Why is everyone up so early?" she asked, Rufus, the cook.

"His Lordship has returned," Rufus informed her, without looking up from the breakfast he was preparing. "He just got in a half-hour ago, and he's calling for a meal."

Doll placed her hands on her hips. "Why wasn't I informed of Lord Lucas's arrival?"

"I sent a servant to wake you, but he must have been waylaid."

Frowning, Doll said, "Did you happen to see if Lady Lara and the children are with him?"

Rufus shook his head. "There wasn't anyone with him except a red-head girl. The chic looked a wee bit like yourself."

Doll snorted, _I seriously doubt that, Rufus,_ she thought, as she left to find his Lordship and his guest.

~:~

Ana stared sleepily at her surroundings, fighting off a mad urge to yawn. She was in a small dining area, which must have been close to the kitchens, for the smell of food was almost overwhelming. Lucas was no where to be found, he had disappeared shortly after steering her into the room.

She had no idea what time it was, but by the amount of light filtering through the windows, she could tell it was probably some ungodly hour. Lucas had insisted they ride through the night.

"_Its only a few hours ride to Silverlee," _Lucas had informed her, when they stopped for the night_, "it would be a waste of an entire day to set camp now. We can eat our evening meal and make Silverlee by midnight."_

It had been several hours past midnight when they had finally sighted the castle in the distance. In that time, Ana had already fallen off Firedance twice. They'd approached the gates, and while Lucas exchanged banter with the guards, Ana had fallen asleep.

Now she waited for Lucas's return so she could eat and go to bed. That was something else that Lucas had insisted on, food.

"_If you don't get some food into you before you go to sleep, you'll be as weak as a kitten. You need to be strong for your training tomorrow."_

Ana groaned, trying to keep her eyes from sliding closed. _I swear, when I'm fed and rested I'm going to give my Lord of Silverlee a mighty fine tongue lashing,_ she thought, her jaw cracking with a huge yawn.

Behind her she heard the sound of a door opening, assuming it was Lucas she turned, ready to declare his death.

But instead of Lucas she found herself staring into a pair of ancient eyes, as violet as her own.

~:~

Doll stared slack jawed at a vision of herself in her younger days. Violet eyes, pale skin, and hair like fire. The lass could have been her daughter, if she had had one. _Perhaps she is a distant relation, or perhaps…_It took several moments for Doll to put her raging mind in order, and as her shock wore off she saw that the girl was just as surprised as she had been.

"I'm sorry miss," Doll murmured, dropping a quick curtsy. "I was looking for Lord Lucas."

The girl blinked and shook her head, as if to clear away her thoughts. "I'm sorry," she said, with a strange accent, "but I have no idea where he might be. He just left me here and disappeared."

Doll nodded, he was probably looking for her, she being the first person he sought out when he returned to his home. "I'm Doris O' Brien, Housekeeper. It's my job to make sure this house stays in one piece while the Lord and Lady are gone," Doll paused, "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I could get you wine or tea to sip until the meal arrives."

The girl nodded thankfully, "Tea would be nice."

Doll walked over to the wall where three bells hung. She rang the first of them and a servant instantly appeared. "Get this lass a bit of tea to drink. And tell Rufus to hurry up the meal, we have guests waiting." The servant nodded, and disappeared again. Doll rang another bell, and a moment later a different servant bustled into the dining hall. "Have one of the guest rooms in the East Wing cleaned out, perhaps the one nearest the Gardens. This poor lass looks like she could use a bed to rest in."

"Yes, ma'am," the servant murmured, dropping a curtsy, then scurrying off.

"You read my mind," the girl said, with a sleepy smile. "I wanted to go straight to bed, but Lucas insisted that I get some food in me."

"And for good reason," Lucas said, he'd entered unnoticed while Doll had been talking to the servant. "If you don't eat now, you'll take two days to recover from that ride." He turned to Doll, "I was looking all over for you and here you were chatting it up with my guest," he lowered his voice, "I need you to arrange some things later, I'll talk to you after we've eaten."

Doll nodded, and stepped aside to admit a servant bearing a tray with tea, and another with food. She turned to the girl. "My Lady, when you're done with the meal a servant will be waiting to show you to your rooms. It should be ready by then, my Lady."

The girl nodded. Doll turned to leave but the girl called her back. "Please, madam, my name is Ana. And I am _not_ a Lady."

~ ~:~ ~


	31. Training

Chapter Thirty: Training

Ana awoke to the sound of birds outside her window. With a soft groan she rolled over and tried to shut out the loud chattering. But it was a futile attempt, for no matter how she covered her head, she could not cover the sound. "Fine!" she grumbled, "I'm getting up! I'm getting up!"

She swung her legs off the bed and stood up shakily. She was still exhausted from their endless ride here, but she could feel her strength returning as she shook off her urge to fall back into bed. A glance out the window told her that it was either late in the afternoon, or early in the morning. She couldn't be sure which, because she had no idea how long she'd slept.

There was a bath waiting for her in the next room, as well as a clean pair of garments. Ana slipped out of the clothes she'd been wearing for the last week and gratefully sank into the warm water. _I wonder how they knew when I would wake up,_ she thought as she stepped from the bath and changed into the clean pair of breeches. Then she used the comb and brush, which had been sitting on her bureau along with a mirror, and tried to untangle her wild curls.

When she finally emerged from her rooms she was sparking clean, her hair was securely pinned to her head , and her stomach was growling. She wandered along the long hallways until she found a servant who directed her to the kitchens. Before she managed to get half-way there she was halted by the Housekeeper, _Doris, I think she said her name was._

"Were you looking for some breakfast, dear?" Doris asked.

Ana nodded, smiling guiltily. Doris waved her towards a door a bit farther down the hallway. "You'll find the Master in there. Eating like a starved man he is," Doris winked at her, "And I'll have the servants bring another plate for you."

Ana let a grateful smile seep over her face as she was steered into the dining room. Lucas looked up as she entered, but only nodded before shoveling another spoonful of porridge into his mouth. A moment later another servant entered and placed another bowl in front of her. For about a quarter hour the only sounds in the room were of eating, and of servants bringing more food, but soon both Ana and Lucas put down their spoons.

"I felt like I hadn't eaten in a week!" Ana sighed, as a servant took away her third bowl of porridge.

Lucas nodded, knowingly. "Its Rufus's cooking that does it to you. Whenever I'm here I always eat three times as much as I normally do, just because the foods so good."

A smile crossed Ana's face. "More than the food is good here. I don't think I had such service in the castle. It seems like the servants can read your mind, even when you're asleep."

"Their servants, that's what they do. And besides Doll is the best housekeeper in this kingdom. She keeps the servants working hard, and enjoying it."

"Doll?"

"Doris O'Brien, the housekeeper. It's what most everyone calls her. If anyone can read your mind it's her." Lucas pushed back his chair. "Well, now that we're fed and watered, its time to begin your training." Ana groaned loudly—she was so full she felt like she could barely walk, much less _train_, but she followed Lucas as he led her outside.

They passed the stables, and moved away from the castle, into what looked like an empty field, split in half by a wooden fence. Then Ana saw a strange contraption perched in the middle of the fence. It was too far away to see clearly, but it looked almost like the gibbets her Mother, _may-she-live-forever, _used to hang thieves with. But instead of a rope, it had a painted shield affixed in the center.

She pointed it out to Lucas and asked what it was.

"A quintain. You use it for jousting. You charge your horse towards the dummy and aim your lance at the shield. If you miss the shield, I'll make you do arm strengtheners. And if you hit it, but aren't going fast enough the weights will come around and give you a lesson on flying."

Ana stared at him. She hadn't understood half of what he had just said, but from what she _had _understood, it didn't sound like jousting was much fun. "I hope that's not part of my training," she said, grimacing.

Lucas laughed, "You will have to learn how to joust, little one. The Knighthood trials require it. But you won't be learning to fly for quite some time yet. First you have to get into shape!"

Ana was staring at her friend and seriously wondering if it had been wise to demand to learn to fight. Perhaps it was better to be the damsel in distress. "We're here." Lucas informed her, gesturing grandly at the building in front of them.

"Where is that?" Ana asked looking curiously around her.

"The Training Center. This is where you're going to be spending all of your days, and some of the nights from now on. This is where you'll learn to fight with your hands and your body, where you'll learn to fence, and to joust. You'll also practice archery and learn how to fight with an ax, and a quarterstaff. But for right now, we'll just concentrate on building up your muscles."

Lucas made her run around the Center three times, and then do several other exercises that he called "warm-ups". She had to stretch all of her muscles by bending into various strange positions that he showed her. Finally he announced that the "warm-ups" were done. Ana collapsed unto the ground, exhausted.

"What are you doing?" Lucas asked her. Ana stared up at him. There was no justice; he wasn't even winded! "That was just the beginning of your workout. Now we'll get into the more serious exercises."

Three hours later, a sweaty and bedraggled Ana was finally allowed a short break for lunch. The morning had been spent running, jumping, lifting, falling, and doing other numerous muscle building exercises. Lucas did all of the exercises with her, scrutinizing her every movement.

"You did well," he told her, while they ate. "When I was training for my Knighthood Trials, I always hated the strengthening parts of my routine. But you endured well."

Ana laughed wearily. "Is the 'strengthening part' of my routine over?"

Lucas shook his head. "You'll do those exercises everyday until we leave for the Trials. But as you grow stronger it will take less and less time for you to do them."

Ana sighed. "Then I'll have to go through that _every day_?"

"Yes," said Lucas, "if you're going to compete in the Knighthood Trials, you will have to."

"What _are_ the Knighthood Trials?"

Sighing, Lucas put down his tea. "The Knighthood Trials are a series of tests that determine whether or not a person is fit to be a knight of Tortall. At the Trials they test all sorts of combat skills, from hand-to-hand fighting to jousting and archery. You have to be proficient at all of these in order to go through the Ordeal of Knighthood, which is the final test in your training. If you do well at the Trials and pass your Ordeal, then you can become a knight of the realm."

Lucas paused to take another sip of tea, then continued. "In days past they used to train those who wanted to become knights in the palace as pages and squires. But the old tradition eventually fell through and we began the Knighthood Trials. Boys these days are needed more at their homes, to help farm, or forge, or hunt, or run the family business, but the right to wear a weapon as a knight of Tortall is still a worthy calling, sought by many. Most boys start training for their Trials when they are only six or seven, and they go through their Trials when they are eighteen. Those boys will be the people you will compete with at the Trials, so train hard now, Ana, because it is a great shame to be sent home empty handed after the Trials."

There was a moment of silence as Ana soaked up what Lucas had told her. Then, for the first time, she realized what a burden she had taken on her shoulders. _It is not going to be as easy as I thought it would be,_ she thought, finishing the last of her tea. _I have less than three months to learn all that there is to know about fighting, and at the end I will test my skills against those who have been training for more than half their lives._ It was a daunting task.

Ana grinned, her eyes twinkling. She'd always enjoyed a challenge.

~ ~:~ ~


	32. Swords

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Ugh. I am _so _not satisfied with this chapter, but I feel like I can't keep re-writing it forever...so I'm just going with the latest version. Sorry about the long wait between posts, things are kind of insane at the moment and I am not always getting the time to write/use the internet that I would wish. Please be patient! Another week and things should be back to normal.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Thirty-one: Swords

The first two weeks of her training were the worst. Her body ached constantly, her muscles venting their fury at being made to rouse from their relative inactivity and _work. _Her wasted body had grown stronger in the months since she had been cured, nourished by the hearty Tortallian fare and the steady exertion of travel, but nothing in her previous life had prepared her for the intense (and unending) action that Lucas demanded from her.

The third morning of her training Ana fell out of bed instead of stepping out of it as she had intended. She moaned as she rubbed her bruised posterior, wincing as her arms protested the movement and waves of pain rippled up her spine and neck. That day Ana seriously considered just giving up, as Lucas pushed her through drill after endless drill. Her body wanted to concede defeat, but her mind remembered the horror of the demon creature lurching toward her, the snarl of the spidren as it charged her, the twisted sneer on Marc's face as he strangled her. So she gritted her teeth and endured, and, in time, her muscles grew stronger and her movements became quicker and more precise. She learned to fight with her hands and her feet and how to counter someone who had a weapon when she did not. She learned how to use a quarterstaff and to throw a dagger. She threw herself into everything Lucas taught her, pushing her body and memory to the limits of her endurance. During her lunch breaks Lucas would tell her the tales of the legendary Shang warriors who had long since disappeared from Tortall or instruct her in the finer points of the Code of Chivalry. Her free time (what little she had) was spent with Firedance, riding through the coastal plain, and looking to the north, where she could see the white of snow on the distant hills.

And slowly, it dawned upon Ana that it felt good to move her body. To hit and punch and sweat. It felt like she was _really _doing something; taking control for once, instead of being a passive bystander to her own life. When she was training with Lucas, she was able to put aside her troubles and focus. There was no looming war, no lost home and family, no pain of betrayal, only the present of deliberate movement and calculating poise. When she fought, she felt like she knew exactly who she was and what she was doing. It felt so right, so natural.

She might have even been able to forget Marc—to forget that he had ever entered her life—if it hadn't been for the bruises. Tohmas had been wrong in his prediction that the bruises would fade with time. The purple weals around her neck were a painful reminder, never failing to bring back those awful memories of the flat, dead look in his beautiful eyes as he strangled her—and the terrible pain that had ripped through her body as she realized that her hero had betrayed her and the country she had come to love.

So Ana learned to avoid mirrors and to wear her tunics laced high up her neck. She learned to think only of her lessons, of her present. And slowly, the pain of Marc's betrayal ebbed and faded beneath the whirl of exercises and movements that had become her routine.

Every morning she was roused early, before it was light out, and ate a hasty breakfast before joining Lucas outside the Training Center. Then they would go over her strengthening exercises before moving on to what Lucas called "the fun stuff". Very rarely did they ever go inside the Center to train, so Ana was very surprised when Lucas suggested they go inside one day.

"The weather is fine," Ana commented as they entered the building, "why are we going inside?"

"Because," Lucas said, throwing her a smile. "I believe that you are ready to learn how to use a sword."

Ana smiled happily. Above all things, this was what she had been waiting for. Lucas led her to an area filled with small arenas where, she assumed, people practiced fencing. But apparently today was not a practice day, for the arenas were deserted. Lucas brought her into one of them, and handed her what looked like a man-sized pillow. "What's this?" Ana asked, wrinkling her nose at the smell wafting from it.

"Padding," Lucas informed her, "you need to wear it."

"You're joking." Ana gazed at him disbelievingly.

Lucas frowned at her, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. "Would I ever joke about something like this?" he asked.

"Yes," was Ana's simple answer.

Lucas laughed. "Well, I suppose we can skip the padding for now, after all, you won't be fencing anyone quite yet."

"So what _will_ I be doing?" Ana asked.

"Well," Lucas said, thoughtfully rubbing the stubble on his chin, "if this were _normal_ training I'd have you work with the blacksmith to learn how swords are made. Then you would make your own, but since you aren't a _normal_ trainee and since we only have seven more weeks…I guess we can skip that too. Which means you need a practice sword."

"A practice sword?" Ana asked, but Lucas ignored her and disappeared through a small door hidden in one of the walls. Ana hadn't noticed it before. He appeared again, holding two wooden swords. He handed one to her and she almost dropped it, surprised at how much it weighed.

"These are practice swords. We don't use live steel to practice, because we don't want any bloodshed. We save that for duels."

Then he had her doing sword drills, first using one hand, then the other. The first time he had her switch hands he explained that the best swordsmen used both their hands when fighting. Ana made no comments as she went back and forth, back and forth. Soon Lucas had her adding leg movements to her arm movements, and Ana said a silent thank-you to Lucas for forcing her to do all those push ups and chin ups to strengthen her arms.

~:~

To Ana it seemed as if the next four weeks passed in a blur.

"Not a real duel, just a bit of fencing to see what you can do against a real opponent," Lucas was saying, "You've been working hard and you need some fun."

Ana smiled, excited, but nervous as well. She had fenced with Lucas before, but always in a drill type setting. Of course, this was only a different sort of drill. And she _had_ been training hard. She'd done all the exercises until she could do the movements without even thinking, and she'd even smuggled a practice sword into her rooms and done the drills late at night. But a duel? With Lucas? He was the Commander of the King's Own and she was…well, she was not.

Numbly, she strapped on the horrid smelling padding, and pulled on the fencing gloves that Lucas had had made especially for her. Pushing away the nervous thoughts banging around in her head, she took several deep breaths and forced herself to become calm. She wordlessly put her sword in the 'guard' position.

Lucas charged into an attack. Smoothly, Ana countered his first attack, then his second, and then, seeing an opening, she moved to attack. Lucas countered, taking a step back, then attacked again, thrusting towards her feet. Ana jumped, his practice sword swung harmlessly beneath her, and as she came down she slashed at his chest, forcing him to jump back.

And then, quite suddenly, it was no longer another drill, but an actual duel. Lucas attacked again, and their swords locked, Lucas's forcing Ana's down. In another moment she would have lost, but Ana dropped and rolled, just like Lucas had taught her. And when she sprang to her feet, she was ready with a counter for the blow Lucas had aimed at her.

There was a few moments time when Lucas attacked, and Ana was forced slowly backwards, then there was an opening, and suddenly it was Ana who was attacking and Lucas who retreated. Then they broke away, and circled each other, both looking for signs of weaknesses or fatigue in the other.

Neither said a word. Lucas had told her that it was an old tradition for duelists to shout insults at each other, but he warned her against it, claiming that she needed to concentrate on her opponent and not on witty comments. Ana watched Lucas's torso, looking for the tell-tale movements of his abdomen that might give away his next move.

Suddenly Lucas thrust his sword directly at Ana's head. Ana, surprised at the unusual move, was forced to jump back. She barely managed to regain her balance as Lucas rained blows on her from all sides. Then, unexpectedly, Lucas feigned to the right and went left, aiming for her weak side. Without even thinking, Ana rolled right, coming up with her practice sword in her left hand, and blocked the blow that would have ended the duel, had she not switched sword arms.

A frown crossed Lucas's face, and he stepped back, signaling with his sword that the duel was over. With a thoughtful look, he turned and disappeared into the equipment room. Ana planted her sword in the ground and leaned on it, watching her instructor as he came out again, holding another practice sword.

"Here," he said, shoving the second sword into her free hand. Ana hefted the sword, testing out the balance. Then, without warning, Lucas swung his practice sword at her. Ana gave a small cry of surprise, and blocked the strike with both of her swords.

She stumbled backwards, breaking apart from Lucas. The shock was apparent on her face as she stared at him. "What were yo–" Ana cut off, Lucas was _grinning_ at her! "Why are you so happy?" she said warily.

"You're ambidextrous!"

Ana stared at him, certain he'd gone crazy. "I'm abidhex…I'm what?"

"Ambidextrous! It means you can use both your hands equally well. You don't favor one of your hands like most people, which means you don't have a weak side. You could learn to use _two_ swords and go without a shield!" Lucas grinned at her.

"Would it be an advantage?" Ana asked, uncomfortably.

Lucas gave her a thoughtful look, "It is a very different way of fighting, but I think it would be a very big advantage, especially against opponents who are bigger and stronger than you are. You are small, but you make up with it with how quick you are. I think that if you learned to fight with two swords it would improve your chances of passing the Knighthood trials by quite a bit."

Ana considered; learning to use two swords would most likely take time away from her 'flying lessons' which had begun the week before. And she desperately needed to practice jousting. She had almost mastered the quintain, but every time Lucas rode against her she got a mouth full of dirt. Also, she was very good at using a sword and shield together, better, probably, than many of the men competing against her in the Knighthood Trials. Yet, she still had a lurking feeling that using two swords instead of one would come in handy…

"Alright, what must I do?" Ana asked, making her final decision.

Lucas grinned at her again, giving her more exercises to do. With a resigned sigh Ana went at it, hoping she had made the right choice.

~ ~:~ ~


	33. Winter Interludes

Chapter Thirty-two: Winter Interludes

Standing high in the castle Will could see the slow crawl of people as they moved into his city. Thousands upon thousands, all gathering here, and for the same reason, the Knighthood trials. _Nearly three weeks until the Trials and all of the city inns are already crowded, _he thought, gazing into the distance. _And not everyone has yet arrived. People will have to set camp outside the city._

He had seen the Trials countless times, but never in his memory had so many people come so early. If the steady flow of people kept up there was going to be a record number of people this year.

_Which is not a bad thing, _he thought,_ if more people come to the city, there will be more to compete and win their shields, and more people to fight in the coming war._ _But then, _another voice cried, _the more people who come to the city, the greater chance of a Scanran spy slipping into the city, unnoticed in the crowds. _This was no time for him to get assassinated.

He'd have to be on guard at every moment and not wander around unprotected as he usually did. But having a guard constantly with him could become a nuisance. _Perhaps it was time for Illieno Reinhart to exercise his…talent. _

Will smiled inwardly. Illieno would solve the problem of being protected perfectly. _If only other such problems could have such a simple solution as this one, _Will thought, staring once more out towards the city gates. For a moment more he watched the crowds, seeming to search for a familiar face, but then, with a wistful sigh he turned to go inside.

~:~

The mountain sloped away from him, disappearing in an icy cloud. But he didn't need to see the mountains to know how and where they ran. He'd memorized every contour of this land, from the rockiest heights to the lowest lake. And soon, soon the passes would be open, and his impregnable minions would descend into Tortall to finish what had begun so long ago. Only a few more weeks…

"My lord!"

One of his lesser commanders was calling him. Calling _him_. As if the creature had the right to call him_._ Anger flared somewhere deep and for a moment his face changed, sprouting from the handsome features he had adopted. For a moment his true face shone through, a face more terrible than man's worst nightmare.

The demon cowered away from his irate lord; it's urgent need forgotten against the wrath it had invoked.

"You wanted me?" the Imp growled.

A shiver passed through the demon, if such monsters could be said to shiver. "Your Graciousness, Marcus the Traitor has returned."

A sly smile crossed the beast's horrid features and suddenly the handsome face was back.

"Perfect."

~:~

_Ana._ Silence. There was only silence here, in this place, in this dream. So how could anybody be calling her name? _Ana_.

I'm here, she tried to say, to scream, but no words would come. Silence.

_I need you. _

Why me? she thought, I am nothing special.

_I need you, come to me._

Why? Where?

_I'm waiting._

But I do not know the way!

_I will guide you._

How?

_I will guide you._

~:~

Ana awoke with a start, cold sweat rolling down her back. The words still echoed in her mind. _I will guide you._

_A dream, _she thought, _it was just a dream._ Shakily she threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. Using last night's bath water, she splashed her face a few times to wash away the dream.

Yet she couldn't shake off the feeling the dream had left her with, a feeling of urgency. _I need you, Ana,_ the voice said.

Ana jumped, nearly overturning the basin of water. Maybe she was still dreaming…but no, her foot throbbed where she had dashed it against the wall. She was awake. _I need you, come to me._

"I'm coming," she said, rushing to find her clothes. "I'm coming."

~:~

The stable was quiet at this time of night, silent except for the occasional snort or huff of a dreaming horse. The stable hands were all asleep, comfortable in their soft beds of hay. Most of the horses were also asleep, hanging their heads as they dreamt of oats and running in open fields.

Ana went almost unnoticed as she slipped into the stables. Her only witness was a single pair of mahogany eyes following her every movement. Firedance was also awake. The horse seemed to understand Ana's need for quiet, for she made not a sound as Ana saddled her and led her out of the stall.

The road out of town was deserted, as might be expected at the early hour. No one had noted the passage of the horse and rider. Silverlee slept on.

~:~

The plan was perfect. It had been analyzed and revised innumerable times and now it was perfect. The traitor's information on the Thaylian girl had been the final touch. Li Dubyn smiled to himself, pleased at his own cleverness. The Tortallian King would never see it coming. _Now there is only one thing left to do,_ he thought, _one loose end to tie up. _He smiled again and that vile face shone through once more.

He called one of his minions to him, whispering the instructions into his mind. The big Scanran smiled foolishly and melted away into the night, happy to have a special task assigned to him.

The Imp paced back and forth, hovering around a certain area of his camp. Where he walked people and monsters alike shivered in their tents. At last a satisfying scream came from the direction he'd been listening in. He waited a moment, content at the silence that suddenly surrounded him. Then he set off towards where the Traitor had once slept.

The tent flap had been forcefully ripped open, and all there was to see inside the tent was revealed.

Nothing. The tent was empty. Anger boiled inside of him; somehow he'd been tricked. As he turned away, he caught sight of a body lying on the other side of the tent. For a moment Dubyn fought with himself, human curiosity waged against impish disdain. Giving into his human curiosity, he stepped to the other side of the tent.

It was the Scanran he'd sent to kill the Traitor, with his throat cut. Scratched on the ground next to the dead man was a short note:

Lord Dubyn

Don't bother sending someone else after me. I'll take care of them too. Have fun fighting your little war, I'm off to a more profitable location. Say hello to my brother for me.

–Marcus of Conte

The Imp's eyes narrowed. "Don't worry, Traitor, I won't send someone else next time," he began to laugh, a horrid scratchy sound. "I'll kill you myself, then _you_ can tell your brother hello for _me_."

~:~

Lucas awoke to the sound of peeping outside his window. Though it was not quite light out yet, the family of sparrows, whom had taken over the ledge outside his window, were wide-awake. _It must be fate, _he thought, ruefully, _the one day I decide to let Ana sleep in and I'm awoken early by the Gods-forsaken birds!_ But now that he was awake and thinking, Lucas had no inclination to return to the depths of sleep, instead he rolled out of bed and pulled on a fresh set of clothes.

Slipping through the near empty hallways of his home, he headed towards the kitchen, intending to demand an early breakfast from Rufus. A sudden thought occurred to him and instead of heading directly to the kitchens, Lucas stepped into a side corridor. Striding along the empty passage, he noticed a light spilling from an open door up ahead. Curious, he increased his pace and, upon reaching the open door, peered inside.

The interior of the guestroom was neat and cozy; the furnishings simple but well made. A small chair was placed in the corner; a saddle that needed mending perched on top. On the wall a small portrait of the Lioness smiled down at the room, its frame suspiciously similar to one he'd seen in the Lavender Suites...

The tumblers fell together in his mind. "Ana?" he called quietly, wondering why Ana had left the door to her room standing wide open.

"The Lady is gone," A soft voice said, from the bedchamber.

"Doll?" Lucas said, surprised. The housekeeper came silently out of the bedroom, her face grim. "Where is Ana?" Lucas queried.

"She's gone," Doll repeated, giving a little half shrug. "I came to wake her as she asked me to, but the bed was empty and the door was standing wide open. I don't know where she is."

It took a moment for that to register with Lucas. But as soon as it did panic gripped him, and a single thought kept repeating itself in his mind: they had to leave for Corus in two days; else Ana would be late for the Trials.

"Lucas!" He suddenly realized Doll had been calling him for some time.

"Yes?"

"What should we do?"

He shook his head; just like Doll to keep a cool head in a situation like this. "We need to figure out where she is and if she left herself or was taken." Who would want to take her? Certainly Thaylia didn't know she was here, and no one else should have cared one way or the other. _The Imp, he cares._ Lucas pushed aside the thought. That meant she had to have left herself. "Make sure to check the stables. And find out if anyone saw her go, someone going to the privy or getting a late night snack."

Doll nodded sharply, and bustled off. Lucas breathed a frustrated sigh, _where could she have gone?_ he thought.

~ ~:~ ~


	34. The Ruin Beside the Ocean

Chapter Thirty-three: The Ruin Beside the Ocean

Ana was sure she was lost. The path she had been following was nothing more than a track through a dense forest. All around her the trees pressed in close, cutting off the morning sunlight. She led Firedance behind her, because the foliage pressed too close for her to ride.

The path twisted and turned, cutting through the trees like a snake through grass. Sometimes it even seemed that she was going in circles, so far did the path sometimes curve.

Then, just as she was about to give up and turn back, despite the sense of urgency tugging at her, she came out of the forest into an open field. And there, not twenty paces from where she stood, was something she, in all her experiences, had never seen: the open ocean.

It was exactly as her mother had said and better. The waves crashed in an endless rhythm as the birds cried from high above. The breeze was warm against her face, and the smell was of a world where water ruled. From horizon to horizon it unfolded before her, an endless expanse of blue. It was everything dry land was not, so very different from every lake or body of water she had ever seen. Years later she would not be able to find the right words to describe it…her first experience of the ocean. And in that moment, she fell in love with the sea.

She ran forward, letting the reigns drop in her sudden urge to feel the white sand beneath her feet. She tugged off her boots and cast them away, digging her bare feet deep into the sand. Then, from nowhere it seemed, a wave came, crashing up towards her and soaking her britches through. The water was cold, freezing, but it felt right, invigorating, perfect.

From somewhere deep inside her Ana felt a laugh bubbling up, and, for the first time since her childhood, Ana laughed from her heart. She laughed until she felt the salty sting of the waves again, and then suddenly a sob was wrenched from her throat and she didn't know if she was laughing or crying.

~:~

Some time later Ana was woken by a wet nose blowing in her face. Swatting the horse's head away from her, she gave a soft groan and sat up, wiping the sand off her face. A glance at the sun betrayed how long she had slept.

The ocean was far below her, retreated in what Thaylia's scientists would call 'low tide'. Slowly she got to her feet; her eyes still fixed on the hypnotic pattern of the waves crashing. Then suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of something glittering in the sunlight.

She turned her head to see what it was and found herself staring at a sharp cliff some distance away from her. The cliff was covered with what looked like a remnant of the forest she had passed through, a few crooked trees and–

There it was again! That same glinting, coming from one of the trees on the cliff...

Ana's eyes widened as she realized what she was looking at. Those weren't trees on the cliff; they were the ruins of some ancient city.

And with that realization, Ana's sense of urgency returned tenfold. _I need you Ana._

~:~

It had been a long time since any creature had set foot upon the ruined city. Though the high towers were the perfect nesting place for birds, there was no evidence of them. Also missing were the tracks of certain small mammals that usually haunted a place such as this. There were no cobwebs and no annoying peeping of insects. The silence was complete except for the roaring of the ocean far below, and the whispering of voices inside her head as they compelled her forward.

As she wandered among the ancient stones it was slowly impressed upon Ana that this was no ordinary ruin. The air shimmered strangely violet around her, making the world seem a bit darker than it normally would.

But perhaps the strange effect was caused by the sun, sitting low in the horizon as it was. It was far past time for her to return to Silverlee, she knew, yet still she lingered, compelled to look just a little bit longer by whomever had guided her so far.

It was the setting sun that finally revealed it to her. A statue, set on the very edge of the cliff, its face turned to the sea. The sun outlined it, making the stone almost seem alive. It was a statue of a tall woman, with long flowing hair and sharp piercing eyes. Ana could almost feel the power of the woman's gaze as she stared out at the endless sea.

With a triumphant smile, Ana strode over to where the statue stood watch. And there, in the very center of the statue's forehead, was the stone that had first caught her attention, down at the beach.

It was almost as if she had people whispering in her ear, for Ana suddenly knew what she was to do. She reached up and pressed her finger into the violet stone. There was a moment's pause, then, with a soft rumbling, the statue slid into the ground, revealing a staircase cut into the cliff-face. They spiraled downward until they were lost in the glare of the setting sun.

Ana didn't hesitate; she stepped onto the stairs and made her way carefully down, keeping one hand on the smooth face of the cliff. About three-quarters of the way down, the stairs abruptly ended on a narrow ledge. The ledge would have been invisible from below and the stairs were hidden from above. The only way for a person to find the secret stairs was to already have known about it. Ana gave a small shutter, remembering suddenly how she had learned the Tortallian language. Fencing had come nearly as effortlessly to her, even when using two swords. Perhaps there was more to her fast learning than she had at first thought.

The ledge twisted and turned, much like the trail in the forest. Finally, after several minutes of careful steps and making sure to look only right in front of her feet, the trail widened and Ana was able to walk more freely, though no less cautiously. All of a sudden the ledge ended, dropping away steeply to the shore below.

With the end of the trail, her guiding voices went abruptly silent, causing a burst of panic inside Ana. She had been relying on her sixth sense to get her here, and now she found she had no idea what was expected of her.

Once more it was the sun that saved her. The last rays of the day were shining upon the world, and, as Ana turned hopelessly in circles, she found that the rays reflected differently on certain places on the cliff face. Examining those places closer she found that they were indeed different, imprints shaped like hands, two hands with the palms facing outward. Curious, she placed her own hands on the imprints…

There was another rumbling; similar to the one she had heard when the statue had slid into the ground. But this time the wall just melted away. Ana stared in acute shock at the tunnel where only a moment ago there had been solid cliff.

Her sixth sense returned, encouraging her to go forward. But she hesitated. It was awful dark in there. The guiding voices seemed to cluck at her, tut-tutting her for being so daft. She had a Gift didn't she? _Of course, _Ana chided herself, _how dumb of me! _

She put her hand out, closing her eyes and reaching inside to the flame that was her Gift. When she opened her eyes a violet fire was floating just above her palm, happily burning without the help of wood or charcoal. Ana said a silent thank-you to Tohmas for teaching her that, and stepped into the newly illuminated tunnel entrance.

~ ~:~ ~


	35. Illieno Reinhart

A Note from Nessa'fur:

So there is good news and there is bad news. I'll start with the bad news first, to get it out of the way. First off, you'll have to hold out a little bit longer to find out just what, exactly, Ana will find at the end of that tunnel (I'm such a tease, I know) because I won't be able to post again until Monday...on the other hand, I can (hopefully) guarantee that it will be worth the wait. And in the mean time, you finally get to meet my favorite character! Wooo!

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Thirty-four: Illieno Reinhart

To most of the world Illieno Reinhart was the handsome and charming son of Seriou Reinhart, the proud owner of the _Crown and Sword_, Corus's most prosperous inn. The _Crown and Sword_ was famed through out the country, not because of its owner—for Seriou had never been a kind personage—but because of it's reputation for welcoming guests of all ranks and fortunes. There were lavish rooms for those who could afford to pay more and less lavish rooms for those who could not. But no matter which room you slept in, the rich or the poor, the rooms were always spotless and the service excellent.

Illieno had been raised to take over his father's enterprise, as had Seriou's father and his father before him, but it seemed in Illieno something had gone quite wrong. For Illieno had no desire to be an innkeeper as his ancestors had been. His only wish was to join the King's Own and keep the king's peace. For this reason, it was well known that Seriou and Illieno did not get along as well as father and only child should.

As a very young boy, Illieno had lived with his mother in the palace. His mother had been Prince William's nursemaid during the Queen's sickness and after her death. Because of this, the two boys had grown up together and become great friends. They had spent every spare hour together, running wild through the less used portions of the castle. It hadn't been until Will and Illieno's eleventh year that the boys were separated; Will to learn how to be king, and Illieno to be an innkeeper.

As the years passed neither forgot the childhood friendship they had shared, and often Illieno would visit his friend in the palace or vise versa. It was with Illieno that Will shared his first love and the anxieties of being the heir to the throne, and later the King. It was with Will that Illieno shared his wish to win his sword, and it was Will who secretly trained his friend for the Knighthood Trials and entered his name in the lists of hopeful Knights-to-be.

Their friendship was sealed by bonds stronger than life itself; either would have given their own life for the other, and so it was Illieno who told Will the burden of his most dangerous secret, a secret, that if generally known, could be used against him. Illieno had no Gift to speak of, but his own gift had nothing to do with magic. His gift could not have been a natural phenomenon—it was impossible by all the laws man had ever invented. Yet, for some unknown reason, Illieno Reinhart could become invisible.

~:~

Under the cover of his Gift and wearing a tattered cloak and stained breeches that were a size too big, Will sauntered slowly through the crowed streets of his city. He had wrapped his sword, Darkfire, with a black cloth as many of those who came to compete in the Trials did and changed the appearance of his face with his Gift. To those who looked upon him he was no longer a king, but an ordinary boy come to compete for his shield.

It was not unusual for him to go out, disguised by his Gift. Sometimes it was a relief to step outside and not have people bowing and murmuring to him. Being king was not always a comfortable position. Besides, it was pleasant to see how his subjects acted in their everyday lives.

But today was not a day for pleasure or observation. Today he had a specific errand in mind: he had a to favor to ask of a friend of old.

The _Crown and Sword_ was not far from the castle, but it took him longer than usual due to the crowded streets. By the time he had sighted the inn a slight drizzle had begun where there had been only clear sky an hour ago. It seemed spring had returned just in time for the Trials to begin.

A small bell tinkled merrily as Will stepped into the _Crown and Sword_. The common room was nearly deserted; most of the patrons had finished their lunch, and it was too early for supper. A serving wench swept in one corner while another wiped tables. They glanced up briefly as he entered, but soon turned back to their work.

Will sat down at one of the unoccupied tables. Immediately a manservant materialized next to his table. "Would you be wantin' lunch milord?" the servant asked, in a friendly tone. "The inn's burstin' it's seems, tain't one room left, but we can fetch you some vittles before you go back out into the rain."

Will smiled and nodded. "I'll have whatever fare you served up for lunch, and mug of your famous ale."

The servant nodded and disappeared through a set of double doors into the kitchen.

Casually scanning the room, Will leaned back in his chair. There was a group of men sitting in the corner opposite him, talking quietly to themselves. Every once in a while one of them would glance in his direction, but Will ignored them; he didn't want to talk to anyone save Illieno and he was no where in sight, not that that meant much. His friend could be sitting next to him for all he knew.

The servant returned, holding a brimming cup of ale and a plate of steamed chicken. The servant asked him if he wanted anything else and Will shook his head absently, wishing he had an excuse to wander about the inn.

He cut a slice of chicken for himself. He'd forgotten how good the food was here. But then, it would have to be; Seriou wouldn't allow anything but the best in his inn.

As he slowly made his way through the meal, Will found himself growing more and more relaxed. Here he didn't have to follow a certain etiquette; if he wanted to eat with his hands and fingers, he could. There were no flirtatious courtiers, no nosy servants. Here he was just another stranger, come to compete in the Knighthood Trials.

It was wonderful, sitting in the _Crown and Sword_ totally anonymous. _It would be perfect if only, sitting in the chair across from me–_

Will stopped himself. He was here on a vital errand and couldn't let those thoughts distract him. He was here for Illieno. Not for…her.

The door to the kitchens swung open with a creak. Will looked up, hoping desperately, but it was only the servant who had served him his meal. With sudden inspiration, Will signaled the man over to him. The man hurried over, inquiring about the chicken.

"It was very good," Will said, with a small smile, "whoever the cook is deserves a raise in pay." He winked. "And since the food was so good I was wondering if I could take some with me. I've got a bit of a journey ahead of me yet."

The servant hesitated, and Will pressed a couple of gold pieces into his hand. "One for the meal. You can keep the leftovers."

A gracious smile crossed the servant's face, and he directed Will into the kitchen. "Jus' tell cook that Tom Gidden says to get ye a bit of something for the trip."

Will nodded, and walked slowly towards the kitchen, silently exalting his ingenious. When he entered the kitchen the room was empty. _Even better, _Will thought. He exited the kitchen by another door and headed down a narrow hallway. He prayed to the Goddess that no one would discover him, and she seemed to have heard him, for he saw not a soul as he made his way to the very back of the inn.

Seriou Reinhart was a hard man, but he had loved his wife very much, and Leesie Reinhart had had a fondness for books. The _Crown and Sword_ was the only inn in Corus that could boast of a library. Though it was only used by Illieno and the occasional patron who could read, for Seriou could not stand to be in a room filled with so many memories of his wife. Will hoped, prayed, that Illieno was there now, as he so often was.

His luck was with him. Illieno was there, curled up near a window, deep into a thick book. His friend looked up briefly when he entered the room, but then turned back to his book. Will could have screamed with frustration. It seemed he would have to get Illieno's attention the hard way.

"The _Crown_ seems to be filled with invisible people today." Will said in a conversational tone. "When I was here before it seemed the place was filled to the rafters. I couldn't even find a place to sit and talk to my comrades. Now it is…empty."

Illieno looked up sharply. "There usually aren't many people here this time of day," he said slowly. "They don't start coming back to the inn until just before the sup. But you speak the truth sir, I haven't seen a soul in hours."

Inwardly, Will smiled. Illieno had just told him that there was no one in the room to see or hear them and that he wouldn't be needed until just before the evening meal. It was a kind of code that they had adopted. A way to communicate when they were unsure of the other's identity, or where they might be overheard.

Will dropped his disguise, watching as Illieno's smile grew. "I thought it might be you," his friend said, closing his book with a snap. "No one else can enter a room with such a…presence." Will laughed, and they embraced, each clapping the other on the back.

They exchanged friendly grins for a moment, but then Illieno's smile faltered and died. "I heard about Marc," he said quietly, "I still can't quite believe it's true, though I trust my sources. It is a hard blow."

Will's face darkened with fury. "This morning I made a proclamation that the man who brings me his head came name his reward," Will said, his voice tight with pain and anger. "I only wish it could be me who did the deed," he growled. "We have unfinished business, Marc and I."

Illieno shook his head. "I'm sorry for you Will," he said quietly, "I cannot imagine how you must feel about it all."

"Angry." Will hissed.

Illieno quirked an eyebrow. "I couldn't tell," he said wryly.

Will's face was carved from stone, his jaw clenched.

"So what brings you to the _Crown and Sword_?" Illieno asked casually, hoping to dispel his friend's anger and distract his attention.

Will blinked, and the anger faded away as his face took on his usual impassive expression. He motioned for his friend to sit down again. Illieno did so, an interested look playing across his face. There was a moment's pause while Will ordered his thoughts, then he turned to his oldest and dearest friend—one who he could trust never to betray him. "I've got a proposition for you," he said.

~ ~:~ ~


	36. The Tomb of the Lioness

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Happy Monday, everybody! Life has now returned to normal (or as normal as it ever gets) here in Nessa's world, so updating should be happening pretty regularly from now on. I think I'm going to try to do every-other-day updates, as I'm getting to the part in the story that I haven't quite finished yet.

But enough drabble from me, without further ado let me present to you...

Chapter Thirty-five: Tomb of the Lioness

As she descended deeper into the tunnel the air became thicker and the darkness pressed in on her. It was a living thing, that darkness—a presence, hovering just outside the protective circle of light that her magic cast. Her Gift kept the darkness at bay, but she nervously wondered what would happen should her Gift run out.

Her sixth sense had left her, retreating back into the distant corners of her mind where it had emerged. She had come to realize that it had always been there, hovering in the back of her mind. Even before she had come to Tortall it had been there, sharing space with her brain and the rest of her vital organs. It had urged her to pay attention in her studies, to be firm in her demands to learn horse-back riding and archery, to fight against the pain that wracked her, to put aside her worries about the future and her wonders about the past and simply embrace the present moment.

At this present moment, Ana could feel her Gift slowly draining away. There was not much effort in maintaining the violet flame in her palm, yet it still tired her. She was not used to using her Gift for long periods, and she had been following the tunnel for no short length of time. It would not be long before she would have to let her precious light wan, and continue in darkness.

As if in answer to her anxious thoughts, the darkness seemed to reach out to her, testing her. Even with the violet fire bright in her eyes, Ana felt the sensation of prying hands on her body and mind. She stopped in her tracks, shivering uncontrollably until the sensation passed. The darkness retreated back outside her ring of light where it was supposed to be. Faintly, Ana wondered if she'd passed the test.

From somewhere ahead a soft light began to glow. It seemed to come from a turn in the path; and Ana dared to hope. Maybe she had finally found what she'd been searching for. She quickened her steps, and came to the corner. She paused there, suddenly hesitant. Then, with a burst of courage, she turned the corner and stepped into the room.

It was as if she had stepped into a dream.

The room was magnificent, like the treasure hoard of a thousand thieves. Gold, silver, and gems were strewn carelessly every which way. There were goblets and chalices and medallions; intricate necklaces and beautifully ornamented swords and armor, all flung about as if worthless. The room was lighted, but not over-bright. It seemed the walls themselves were glowing with a subtle, but noticeable, violet light. Unconsciously, Ana let her own little light die.

Her eyes roamed around the room, taking in all the beautiful artifacts and at last settling upon a stone box in the very center of the room. A moment passed as Ana stared at it in confusion, then she took in a sharp breath. The box was a tomb.

Ana made her way to the center of the room, slipping on rubies and gold pieces. Finally she was there and she peered over the edge of the tomb to try to decipher the words inscribed there. It was no use. The words were written in Tortallian, and she could only read Thaylian.

"It says: here lies Alanna the Lioness, Protector and Champion of Tortall," a quiet voice said.

Ana whirled, nearly tripping over a gaudy shield.

She froze, her jaw sagging.

There, standing not two feet away from her, was the Lioness. Ana recognized her instantly from the various paintings she had seen and her own visions. It was eerie, like looking into a funhouse reflection of herself. There was so much that was familiar in that face. Lioness's eyes and hair—even the stubborn set of her chin and the quirk in her eyebrows—were so much like her own.

And yet, despite their similarities of face and coloring, the Lioness looked nothing like her. There was a strength in that face, a quiet certainty borne of countess ages of experience. Her violet eyes, though reminiscent in shape and color of her own, had a quality that was not quite human in nature. The Lioness's gaze was alien, it bored into her, pinning her down like a trapped butterfly skewered on the end of a collector's needle.

Ana tore her eyes away from that gaze, suddenly frightened of the secrets they held. She looked down at the Lioness's body, noting her proud, yet poised, stance. Her torso looked like it might break into movement at any moment, yet she was perfectly still.

_She is shorter than I expected her to be, _Ana thought idly.

She stared at the Lioness's leather boots, wondering how anyone could have ever mistaken her for this person—this…

She glanced uncertainly at the tomb behind her. "Are you a ghost?" she asked, her voice quavering.

A small ripple of laugher, drifted from the Lioness. She was wearing a tunic and breeches similar to the ones that Ana had on. The only difference between them was that the Lioness was armed; a short sword hung comfortably at her side along with several daggers. Ana thought: _aren't ghosts supposed to be wearing white and be carrying chains?_ "No child, I am not a ghost," the Lioness said, "but neither am I alive in the mortal sense of the word." Alanna turned her head to look about the room, and Ana noticed that she glowed faintly purple around the edges. "Sometimes," Alanna continued, slowly, "if a person who, in his or her lifetime, did something quite extraordinary the Gods will…offer them a choice when they die. Either to die forever as every normal mortal does or to live on. I chose to live on…but I am afraid I am no longer quite mortal and I can only enter this world under very _very_ special circumstances."

Ana stared at the Lioness; she had heard the story of Daine the Wildmage and a similar decision made by her. "You're a Goddess," she whispered. There was a moment's silence then, Alanna smiled, her teeth flashing in a grin of crooked mischievousness. "Yes," she said, winking.

Ana opened her mouth to ask something else, but the Lioness shook her head. "I didn't come here to chat about myself," she said. "There was a reason I guided you here."

"Then it was you," Ana said, thinking of her sixth sense.

"Partly. You did most of the work. I simply…encouraged your own instincts." A rueful smile crossed Alanna's face. "I wanted you here because this place is protected against all intruders except those who are of my blood. There was no chance of anyone following you here; no one living even knows it exists."

"What is this place?" Ana asked.

Alanna's eyes twinkled. "It is my tomb. After I died my son brought me here and laid the spells to keep out intruders. Only my kin could visit me here, unharmed."

"What of all this?" Ana questioned, gesturing towards the glittering treasure.

The smile faded from Alanna's eyes. "It is the treasury of Tortall. It was put here in order to keep it from being abused by the future Kings of Tortall." A terrible sadness seemed to come over the Lioness. "It was prophesized that the line of Kings would fade over time. It was thought that the lesser kings of the future would become greedy and not use the treasure to help their people." The Lioness was staring at a purple gem lying almost at her feet. Suddenly Alanna looked up, her violet eyes meeting Ana's own. Once more a smile entered her face. "But it was also foretold that a strong king would rise from the fading line and bring Tortall back to its former glory. Your Will is that King." Alanna bent and picked up the purple gem. "This is the Dominion Jewel," she said, "you should give it to Will; he will need it in the coming war." Ana held out her hand uncertainly, she had never heard of the Dominion Jewel.

"As for you," Alanna said, "I give you my most precious possession: my sword, Lightning." She unbuckled it from her waist.

"You're giving me your sword?" Ana asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Yes," the Lioness said. "It was always your destiny to carry it, for in you a Champion has come to Tortall once more."

Hesitantly, Ana put out her hands, and took the sword. It was surprisingly light.

Ana examined the sword for a moment. The scabbard was rather battered, and the hilt that poked out of it was worn with years of use. But the jewel in the pommel still shone as clear and bright as if it was newly set, its purple facets catching and throwing the light.

Ana looked up at the Lioness, the Last Champion of Tortall, whose face was so very much like her own. She held her wise, violet gaze for a long moment, then whispered, "Your brother was my father," she said. "But I don't see how it is possible."

Alanna grinned at her, "You know, I was very close to my brother, but never _once_ did he mention you when I was alive," she said, "I didn't even know of your existence until after I died. Thom always was very good at keeping secrets—he was also very good at discovering secrets," she said, her voice amused. "He discovered something in his research that I only found out after I became a goddess, namely that Tortall and the Divine Realm, where the Gods reside, are only two of an infinite number of worlds."

"What?" Ana exclaimed, "Impossible!"

Alanna's playful smile grew. "I was just as skeptical when I first learned of it," she said, 'but believe me, its true. My theory—though it is only a guess, for only Thom knows how he actually did it, and he died without revealing his knowledge to anyone—is that Thom, in his studies of magic, somehow came across a way to enter into one of those other worlds. Time flows very differently between the different planes; it is not surprising that he got caught up in it. Perhaps when he tried to return to his own world, he found himself back in Tortall…but over a thousand years in the future. How and why he made his way to Thaylia, I know not—though I have a sneaking suspicion that Mithros knows. Or at least, the memory is somewhere in his mind, but he is so very agile at deflecting my questions…" The Lioness's visage suddenly turned dark. "And _I know _that George knows something about that whole fiasco—blast him and his Sight--" she muttered, half-under her breath.

Ana raised an eyebrow. She wondered if being made a Goddess had made the Lioness so crotchety, or if she'd always been that way.

The Lioness shook her head, "Anyway, Thom must have spent several years there before he figured out how to return to his own time."

Ana stared at her, doubt furrowing her brow. "_Time_ flows differently in different worlds?" She asked, incredulously.

"Oh yes," Alanna said, absently, "Time exists very differently in the Divine Realm then it does on this plane. Past, present, and future are somewhat irrelevant..."

The Lioness's eyes were unfocused, lost to memory. "It must have been when he was a student in the City of the Gods," she mused, "I remember seeing him in person again for the first time in several years and wondering at how much he had aged in that time. We were twins, you know, but I always thought that after that he looked several years older than I did." She shrugged, coming back to herself, "At the time, I chalked it up to the weight of everything he'd been learning, but later I understood."

"What was he like?" Ana whispered.

"We were as different as two similar people could be," Alanna said, laughing. "We looked so very much alike, yet our personalities were so very different. He was confident in all the ways I was not. He never doubted that he would become a great sorcerer. He was always asking questions, always delving into some secret or other. In many ways he was like my father. He was very solitary…very lonely, I think." She shook her head. "I was one of the only people that could appreciate his humor. He could always see the irony in everything."

She glanced at Ana.

"I can see him in you," she said quietly, "I can see his pride and his strength of will—though I'm sure your mother helped in that regard," Alanna said dryly. "You have the same sarcastic edge, but I am happy to find you seemed to have escaped his arrogance." She shook her head, her eyes sad. "It was what brought him down in the end. I think he truly believed that he was capable of anything…that he was beyond the influence of fate and the Gods." The Lioness's face furrowed in an expression that somehow conveyed frustration, anger, and sad regret simultaneously. Then her eyes met Ana's, and, for a moment, Ana glimpsed a terrible revelation reflected there. The Lioness's eyes were full of ancient knowledge, of history, of deeds and subtle influences that wove a tangled web between the lives of those in all worlds and times and places. She felt so very small, so insignificant, compared to the mysterious threads of destiny she saw in the Lioness's eyes.

Then the Lioness blinked, and her eyes reflected only the glowing luminance of the tomb once more. "Thom was not the first to discover a means to cross into different planes," she said gravely, "and neither was he the last. The demons and Imps that plagued Tortall in my day were brought into this world by three apprentice sorcerers. They discovered the same phenomena that Thom had, though it had much darker consequences for them and for Tortall. Demons and Imps hail from a universe that is very different from either the Divine Realm or the Mortal Realm; theirs is a dark and violent world."

Alanna crossed her arms, giving Ana an ironic look. "Li Dubyn, the Imp which rides once again against Tortall, was once Nathaniel Clemmings, a Scanran apprenticed in Corus."

Ana's jaw dropped. "What?" she stammered, "How?"

Alanna's face was grim, "Li Dubyn _was _trapped in the Divine Realm," she said, "but somehow he managed to find a way to cross over—despite all our efforts to keep the ways between realms closed."

"The Imp was in the Divine Realm," Ana said, faintly. She looked up at the Lioness's serious face. "I remember Lara telling me that there were three imps…I thought they were all destroyed when you killed their leader."

Alanna shook her head, "Unfortunately, it was not so. I killed one of them, but I could not destroy the others." She paused, her face suddenly fierce. "When I died the sacrifice was completed, and it allowed the other two Imps to enter into the Divine Realm, as they had desired to all along. I was blessed by the Goddess, a perfect sacrifice for their dark magic, and my blood opened the way for them to enter into the Realms of the Gods and pervert its ways." She turned and looked at Ana, "But it is _our _Realm, and what happens there happens for a reason. The Imps have not found their mischief so very easy to work, for the mysteries of the Divine Realm are not easily discerned." Alanna smiled, and her smile was alien, for surely no human smile had ever held such fierce pride, solemn knowledge, and gleeful anticipation. "We are better equipped to deal with such trifling nuisances as the Imps and their little demon friends present," she said, and her smile transformed into a frown with inhuman quickness, "We are much more concerned about the damage they could reap in your world. Li Dubyn should not have been able to enter into Scanra again. He must have had help from someone on the other side," she said, "else he would never have been able to find a way through."

Sudden understanding bloomed in Ana's mind. "That's why the Gods hadn't been seen in so many years—you were keeping the doors closed. But someone in Tortall discovered the secret way again, and let him through."

Alanna nodded, an impish smile spreading across her lips, "I knew you'd be a sharp one," she said, rather fondly. "Though you certainly don't get it from me."

A silence fell, as Ana absorbed the Lioness's words. Her mind reeled with wonder at the forces that had brought her parents together—that had resulted in her very existence. How was it possible that things had conspired _just so_ so that _she_ could be here now, in this time and this place? Was her life just an accident of chance or a careful move in a timeless game of fate? Ana mused over her life, over the memories of her childhood, the struggles of her adolescence, her degenerating, yet inexplicable illness, her sudden removal to this country—this world—where magic is wonderfully, terribly real, and legends haunt a wasted land and her dwindling people. Ana thought over the choices she had made…and the things that had simply _happened _to her, the things that had been completely beyond her control. How many times had she railed at her mother for denying her a choice in how she lived her life? How often had she held back her anger as Will casually directed where she went and what she did? How often had she felt that guiding force within her, telling her to move here now, to do this, to say that?

How much of her life was even hers?

Did her choices even really _matter_? Or was she constructed so that she would make every decision in the way that would fulfill some predestined future?

"No." The Lioness said, her voice firm. "Your choices matter."

Ana looked up at her, her eyes filled with tears. "What choice do I have? Yes, I suppose I could choose to die…but after coming so close to death, I cannot help but want to live."

A slow, ironic smile spread across the Lioness's face. "You have always had a choice," she said, her voice amused, "even if it _was_ only to die. You could have surrendered to the Blight, could have begged Will to return you to your home. You could have accepted the protection of the King, or left off your studies of the Gift after you'd learned enough to keep you alive." Alanna paused, and her smile grew. "You could have taken Firedance and set off toward the Thaylian border…you still could, actually."

Ana scowled, crossing her arms. "No, I couldn't." She took in a shaky breath, as she realized that it was true. "I cannot help but love this land and its people, and I cannot help but want to help them any way that I can. If that means learning to fight and to use my Gift, then I will. I might rail at my fate, but I know that even if it means dying, I will fight for Tortall with my last breath."

"I am glad to hear you say that," the Lioness said. "I knew you would, of course, but I could not help but wonder if you would love this land as we have—and do. After all, you have not known Tortall for very long, and circumstances have not given you much cause to love it."The Lioness's smile was full of pride and happy satisfaction. Ana felt a blush rising and she looked down at her feet, embarrassed, but glad that she had spoken the words.

"You don't…perchance, happen to know what is going on in Thaylia do you?" Ana asked quietly, staring at her feet.

Alanna sighed. "I was told you would ask me that question," she said, "but, unfortunately, I cannot answer it as you would wish. I _can_, however, tell you that your mother and siblings are alive, though whether they are well I know not."

"Thank you," Ana whispered. She felt lighter, easier, just knowing that her family was still alive. It was only a slight lifting of the burdens she carried, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

Ana looked up at the Lioness and found her ageless eyes full of terrible pity. "I'm very sorry that I haven't been able to tell you all of this earlier," The Lioness said quietly. "My own power to affect and enter this world is often a tenuous thing. I can only assist you at all because of the strong connection in our shared blood." Alanna smiled sadly, "I would not have wished my niece to live in a time of war, as I did and do. It is not an easy thing, to be a child of destiny, not an easy path, even without the meddling of immortals. Let it give you comfort in knowing that I think you will do very well in the challenges you face."

Ana's brow furrowed, her mind churning with everything that she'd just learned. She felt a little overwhelmed by it all, like her heritage and her destiny were a great weight pressing down upon her shoulders. Lightning lay heavy in her hands, heavy with the weight of responsibility.

Slowly, Ana started to belt it around her waist.

"No." Alanna said, firmly. Ana looked up, surprised. "You should wear it slung over your back, not around your waist," Alanna said, showing her how to buckle it over her chest. Finally it was settled, and Ana felt a strong sense of rightness. This was how she was supposed to wear a sword.

"Why not around my waist?" Ana asked, "That is where you wore it."

Alanna shook her head. "It will be much easier for you to use both your swords if you wear them on your back."

"Both my swords?" Ana asked faintly, but the Lioness didn't hear.

"You will have to reach behind you with your opposite hand," she was saying, "and draw it over your shoulder. You won't be able to use a long sword, but I always thought them heavy and awkward anyway."

Ana nodded, and drew Lightning with her left hand. It was as easy and comfortable as if she'd been doing it all her life. She sheathed Lighting again.

Alanna was grinning at her. "Lighting will do well for you, as she did for me. She will do wonders in your left hand as another sword will do wonders in your right. But you must remember that she is not a normal sword. Lighting is far older than I, and has a history that even I do not know. Sometimes she does things for her own reasons, but she is as good a friend and ally as any man or woman could wish for.

"Now," said the Lioness, "I have one more gift for you, before you and your horse must return to Silverlee."

From beneath her tunic, Alanna drew a leather thong. Suspended on the thong was a red stone that pulsed slightly, as if with a heartbeat. "This was given to me by the Mother Goddess herself," Alanna informed Ana. "I know it will be useful to you. Use it well." Ana nodded solemnly.

"Do you have the Dominion Jewel?" Alanna asked. Ana took it out of one of her pockets, showing the stone to the Lioness. Alanna nodded. "Keep it safe until you find an opportunity to give it to Will." Ana nodded. The Lioness smiled at her, fondly. "You will do well, my dear. You will do just fine. But remember; do not be afraid to stand up for yourself. Even a Champion sometimes disagrees with her king." Alanna smiled at some distant memory. "Goodbye, Ana."

Ana felt herself falling, falling through the floor into a world of impenetrable darkness. And she knew no more.

~:~

Ana awoke, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling. The morning's first rays shone through the window, and Ana wondered if the entire encounter had just been a dream. Then she sat up.

Lighting jabbed sharply into her lower back, sending rockets of pain shooting up her spine. Slowly, carefully, she rolled off of the bed, but for all her care a large purple gem still tumbled off her lap unto the floor. She picked up the Dominion Jewel carefully, examining it for damage; the purple gem was still flawless. She stood there frozen for an instant, breathing deeply, her left hand slipped upward toward her neck and she clutched the Lioness's pendant. Then she unbuckled Lightning from around her chest.

It had been no dream.

~ ~:~ ~

Hey you! You read, so now review :)


	37. Leavetakings

Chapter Thirty-six: Leave-takings

Lucas drifted, somewhere between waking and dreaming. Images of Ana surrounded him, of her as he had first seen her, the unconscious bundle slung over Will's saddlebow. Of her practicing her exercises, the two practice swords working in perfect unison. Of her laughing happily around a fire and dancing in the arms of his king. And finally he saw her lifted by her throat by the person she had trusted and loved, struggling helplessly as the life was wrung out of her…

Lucas awoke with a start, the last image of Marc and Ana still before in his eyes. Fear and panic rose inside him, as they had when he'd first heard of Ana's disappearance. Taking deep breaths, he forced himself into a calmer state, pushing aside the horrible image his dream had left him with. Ana had been gone an entire day. They were supposed to have left tomorrow for the Trials, but without Ana it was pointless.

A soft knock on his door pulled him out of his reverie. "It's open," he said, rolling out of bed and he wrapping a robe over his small clothes.

The portal swung open and Lucas looked up casually, fully expecting Doll or another servant. It wasn't; it was Ana.

"Ana!" he roared, nearly falling on his face in his haste to cross the room and throw his arms around her. When he finally released her, she smiled up at him. But her smile had a strange, tight quality to it. She was clutching something suspended around her neck. "Where have you been?" he asked, motioning for her to sit down.

She shook her head, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I…I'd rather not," she said, and then added, quickly, "sit down that is. I'm quite comfortable standing." Her voice quavered. Lucas furrowed his eyebrows. _Something must be very wrong for her to be so nervous._ Then he noticed the sword handle poking up over her right shoulder.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, reaching out and touching the sword handle. When he touched it a weird electric current shot up his arm, and he pulled his hand away again quickly.

Ana mumbled something about a gift. She was carefully studying her feet.

"Ana," Lucas said. When she didn't look up he forced her chin up with his fingers. "Ana. Whatever it is that is bothering you, you can tell me. Where did you disappear to in the middle of the night?"

There was a moment's silence. Then Ana began slowly to tell of how she had come across the sword. It was a long story, and long in the telling. The sun had risen high before Ana finally finished her account of meeting the Lioness.

"She gave you her sword?" Lucas asked faintly. His mind was spinning as fast as the tops he'd played with as a child. The sword Lightning had been destroyed long before the Lioness had died…but if she was a Goddess…

Ana nodded. "But she said something about another sword too…another sword that I would use in my right hand."

Lucas shook his head. It was all too much…and they still had a long journey ahead of them. _When we get to Corus, _Lucas thought, _I need to have a long discussion with my wife about this girl. Lara always seems to make everything clearer. _"Ana," he said, "perhaps you should return to your rooms. You still have to get packed. We have to leave for Corus tomorrow, otherwise we shall be late for the Trials." Ana looked up, the surprise obvious on her face.

"I had forgotten about the Knighthood Trials…"

Lucas chuckled. "Well, now you'll be able to use Lightning in the Trials. That is, if you make it past the jousting."

Ana made a face. "Why must I be constantly tormented by my weaknesses?" she asked, her eyes cast towards the heavens.

Lucas slapped Ana on the back, causing her to turn her glare on him. "Don't worry," Lucas said, between laughs, "you will be a flash from the heavens. A bolt from the skies. Even your worst joust shall be better than the best of theirs."

Ana snorted, loudly. "You don't believe me, then?" asked Lucas. Ana rolled her eyes. "Just wait," said Lucas, "just you wait. I don't believe anyone really knows what I am bringing back to Corus with me, except perhaps Will. But they will see. Yes, they will see."

~:~

Ana made her way slowly back to her rooms. She was sad to be leaving Silverlee tomorrow. The busy hallways and quiet outdoors had attached themselves to her heart, and though she would be happy to return to Tortall's capital, she knew she would miss this place.

The hallways were nearly empty now; most of the servants were either helping prepare lunch or packing for herself and Lucas.

She entered her room, closing the door softly behind her. She shooed the servants who had been packing out of her bedroom and relaxed in the sudden silence. Tugging her tunic over her head she slipped into her nightgown, intending to take a short nap before the luncheon. She sat on the bed to pull off her boots and heard the crackle of paper beneath her. Frowning slightly, she stood up and turned around.

There on the bed sat a hand-sized box covered with what looked like ancient ruins. Ana reached out and touched it briefly, marveling at the beauty.

Instantly a vision appeared before her eyes.

She stood upon a ridge, looking down into the valley below her. It was a beautiful place, with wildflowers, all in full bloom, blanketing the entire valley. The sun was just setting, giving the valley a blood red hue. In the distance she could see a dark line advancing, steadily, like approaching doom.

From just below her a horse screamed, a challenging cry, and with a shock Ana realized that Firedance was between her legs. Next to her another horse stood, more quietly, its rider also watching the approaching army.

"They'll be here with the dawn," the man next to her said.

Ana felt herself sigh. Her voice said: "Then tomorrow we shall blow the horn and see what answers its call."

Ana blinked, returning instantly to the present. The box beneath her hand was rough, but solid. Ana shook her head, _first voices now visions, _she thought with a wry smile. At least now she knew who was behind it.

The paper Ana had sat on was lying next to the box. Curious, Ana picked up the paper, breaking the seal and shaking it open. But it was no use, the words were written in Tortallian.

Frustrated, Ana reached up and gripped the Lioness's pendant. Instantly the foreign words became legible.

_Ana,_

_This box has been passed down for generations in my family. My mother gave it to me as her mother, and her mother before, gave it to her. But I am the last of our blood, the last remaining of the Lioness's kin. I have had no children to pass the box onto, and so I give it to you, as the Champion herself told me to, in a dream. _

_There was also a legend, to be passed from generation to generation, along with the box. Unfortunately the legend was forgotten as the years passed, but the Lioness told me the story in my dream and now I tell you. After the death of the Lioness, a prophecy was made. It told that, in the future, the Last Champion would come again, to defend her country in its time of greatest need. But it also said that her task was futile, unless the other seven Great Warriors of Tortall and their followers, fought with her. So the remaining Seven devised a plan that would ensure the future of their country._

_They cast a spell that would lock their souls into a certain object until they were called to fight. Then they put their souls into a hunting horn, so that when the horn was blown they could return from the realms of the dead and fight again for Tortall. To keep the horn safe it was placed in a box that could not be opened except by the person meant to have it. _

_The box was given into the care of the Lioness's children, my ancestors, to keep safe, until it came to the proper person. A spell was also put on the family, so that a member could not die until the box was safely passed on to another generation. I have lived a long life and now that the box has safely gone into your hands I shall pass away. _

_I hope you do not blame yourself for my passing. To someone who has lived as long as myself, death is not a punishment, but a release. Farewell, and may what luck I had pass to you._

_~Doris O'Brien _

"No!" Ana gasped, dropping the letter onto the floor and racing through the empty hallways to the kitchen. Her heart was racing and the blood pounding in her ears as she turned each corner, her well-trained body keeping her from slowing and finally she reached the room where Doll had spent so much time.

Rufus the cook was kneeling over the limp form of the Doris O'Brien, Silverlee's housekeeper, sobs wracking his entire body. Scullery maids and servants stood frozen where they had worked. Everyone had loved Doll, and even Ana, who had hardly known the woman, felt the sharp pain of the loss. Watching the cook's grief, she felt her own build up and spill over. She didn't even try to wipe away the tears running down her face.

One of the servants looked over at her. "One minute she was fine," the man said, obviously fighting tears, "then she smiled and said 'the Champion has returned' and she just collapsed." The man wiped at wet eyes.

Ana took in a shuttering breath, trying to find a semblance of calm inside her whirring mind. "Perhaps somebody should inform Lucas," she said quietly.

~ ~:~ ~


	38. Violet Eyed Boy

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Thank you to every one who has reviewed! I really appreciate your feedback--it is what makes fanfiction so satisfying to both read and write. I totally had a forehead-slapping moment when you guys reminded me that Alanna was, in fact, ambidextrious. (And right after I post this new chapter I'm gonna go edit that chappie, like I've been meaning to all week.) I want you to know that I take your reviews very seriously, because I am eager to grow as a writer and a storyteller. I feel like writing (and completing) this story is kind of like a trial run, a place to experiment with different ways of storytelling. Looking back (and looking ahead, to what I still have to write) I cannot help but remember why I gave up on this story. It is so bloody complicated. I hope I can weave it all (it all, being the story I have in my head with the cannon of Tortall) together in a way that makes some slight bit of logical sense. I hope TP will forgive me for what I'm doing to her universe, but if it hadn't been for her and authors like her, I might never have been inspired, at age 11, to write my own story of Tortall.

And now, a bit of fluff:

Chapter Thirty-seven: Violet-eyed Boy

Though the air was crisp with the promise of the winter to come, Will sat outside on his balcony and watched the sunrise. He was wearing naught but his small-clothes, yet the cold morning did not seem to penetrate him as he smiled at the colors before his eyes. It was one of the most beautiful sunrises he had yet seen, the various yellows, oranges, reds, and pinks seemed to stretch across the sky and reach out to him.

The city below him seemed devoid of life; Corus was recovering from the celebration of the night before by sleeping in late. There would be little or no work done today, as most people were too exhausted to go about their daily routine.

But that was nothing unusual. The day after the birthday of the prince was always a slow one, in both the palace and the city.

"Daddy?" came a small voice from behind him. Will turned to see his three-year-old son standing in the doorway to the balcony.

"Terrance, what are you doing up this early?" Will asked, holding out his arms. The toddler ran into them and Will picked him up.

"I woke up and there was a dragon in my room!" said Terrance, his huge amethyst eyes as wide as they could go.

Will chuckled, his son was well known for the tales he spun. "A dragon you say? Did it try and eat you up?"

Terrance shook his head, his black curls bouncing. "It's a baby dragon. "

"A baby dragon!" Will said, "I've never seen a baby dragon! Should I go see it?"

Terrance nodded, and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

"First I better get dressed, and then I should tell mommy where we are going. We wouldn't want her mad at us would we?"

Eyes wide, Terrance shook his head. "Don't want mommy mad," he said, around his thumb.

Will laughed. "You're a smart lad. Keep that in mind when you're dealing with your own future wife."

Carrying his son, he went inside and into his bedroom. "Why don't you wake up mommy," he whispered to Terrance, who nodded very seriously. "But do it real gently."

"Don't want mommy mad," the young prince said. Will grinned, setting his son down on the bed, then turned to his wardrobe. The boy crawled over to where his mother lay and very gently shook her. "Wake up mommy," he said, "there's a dragon in my room."

Ana sighed softly and turned over. "What nonsense story have you fed your father this time, Ter?" she asked, ruffling the boy's hair fondly.

"Apparently there's a dragon in his room," Will informed her. He pulled on a pair of breeches. "We are going to check it out."

"It's a baby dragon." Terrance said solemnly.

Ana grinned at her son, and ruffled his hair again. "A baby dragon, eh? Maybe I'll come and see it in a little while."

"Ter, why don't you wait outside," Will said, "I'll be there in a moment."

Terrance nodded happily and sprang off the bed and out the door.

"You don't really think there's a dragon in his room, do you?" Ana asked.

Will smiled, and brushed a fiery lock out of her eyes. "No, but you know he won't be satisfied unless I check it out. Rather stubborn about that."

Ana laughed softly. "He takes after his father," she said, grinning lazily up at him. Will smiled back, then leaned down and kissed her softly.

"We won't be long," he whispered against her lips.

"Hurry back," she said.

~:~

Will awoke with a start, his heart racing and sweat running down his bare chest. For a moment he lay there, frozen in his bed as Ana's final words faded in the air. He could still feel the pressure of her lips on his.

He inhaled in a ragged breath, as he tried to slow the blood pounding in his ears. Was he going crazy? How could one person have such an effect on him?

"What has she done to me?" Will asked aloud. There was no one to answer.

Had it been only a dream? It had seemed so real…so…right.

Will turned over, determined to find sleep again, but all he could think of was that boy…the boy with her eyes and his hair. Their child.

~:~

Two day's ride from where Will lay in bed pondering, Ana woke with a startled gasp, heart racing and palms sweating, a vision of a boy with amethyst eyes and black hair still before her eyes.

~ ~:~ ~


	39. Dawn in Corus

Chapter Thirty-eight: Dawn in Corus

As soon as the servant entered her room she woke, snapping awake instantly from a refreshingly dreamless sleep. For a wild moment she thought she was back at Silverlee, with Doll coming to wake her as she had every morning, but this was not Silverlee; it was Corus and the servant was a stranger, not the friendly woman she had come to love.

"My lady," she heard the servant whisper, "it is time."

Lucas had told her about this, one of the only things he had told her on their journey north.

"_You will be woken before dawn," _he'd said_, "and you will dine with the other hopefuls and meditate until the sun rises and the trials begin."_

Ana tried not to groan as she slipped out of bed and into the soft leather breeches and tunic laid out for her. They had arrived in Corus only yesterday, and she was still very sore from the long journey, and the escapade that had preceded it.

Automatically, she reached for Lightning, but the servant shook her head. "You will not need your sword in the morning trials," the woman informed her, "you will have time to fetch it later…but you will only need it if you make it to the afternoon trials." The servant sounded very doubtful that she would.

In another time, in another place the comment might have angered her, but instead of wrath at the servant's disbelief Ana felt a strange sense of sorrow. It had been a very long time since these people had had a female warrior. They had forgotten the Last Champion.

Well, if she _was _the Champion come again, then she certainly would show them.

"Where must I go?" Ana asked, determination pulsing within her veins.

"Follow me," the servant said, leading the way through the hallways.

Some time later they entered a large hall where a large number of people were amassed. Ana felt a sickening lurch somewhere around her midriff as she realized that they were all men. Some were clumped in small groups, and others sat alone staring vacantly into space. The cheerful smell of porridge drifted through them all, making her stomach awaken painfully.

Ana instantly forgot her nervousness, as she slipped into a line and was served a generous bowl of the fare. Preoccupied with her breakfast, which tasted just as good as it smelled, she didn't notice she was being watched.

A lithe form leaned against a pillar; hidden in shadow just a few feet from where Ana sat happily engrossed in her porridge. The man watched her for a few more moments before coming into the light and approaching her.

"You know, you shouldn't fill yourself with porridge, it will only make your stomach hurt when the trials begin."

Ana looked up, startled. For a moment she just stared, surprised at the person that looked back at her. The boy was very tall, but slim rather than sturdy. He had a shaggy mop of dark hair perched on top of his tanned face and she could see that his eyes were so dark as to appear black. There was something disquieting about the boy's face, but Ana couldn't quite pin down, exactly, it was…his features were common enough.

Ana suddenly realized her rudeness and quickly looked away. "I suppose I could slow down," she said, gazing regretfully at her near-empty bowl, "but I haven't tasted anything so good in a while. It's been all stale bread and slightly moldy cheese for the last week."

The man laughed, then held out his hand. "My name is Karmos." Ana took the proffered hand, and was surprised at how firm his grip was. He didn't look very strong.

"Ana," she said, and Karmos smiled.

"I know," he said, laughing shortly at the surprise showing on her face. "You are the Thaylian the King brought back with him."

Ana winced. "I wish people wouldn't refer to me as 'the Thaylian', it makes me feel so…unwelcome."

Karmos laughed again. "You won't be referred to as 'the Thaylian' after today. You will be known as the only woman who has competed in the Knighthood Trials for many, many years." For some strange reason, he looked very sad about it.

Ana frowned, if she hadn't known better she would have said it was _regret_ reflected on his face. "I suppose that's an improvement," Ana said, slowly. "but somehow I don't think many people will remember me."

The man frowned, gazing at a place somewhere above her head. "They will," he said almost absently, "but not for what you think they will."

Ana tried not to stare. _Is he some kind of fortune-teller?_ She wondered. Such people were not unheard of in Thaylia, but Ana wasn't sure if any Tortallians had psychic abilities. Marghi had always denounced all of that 'paranormal shit' as bogus, but Ana had been secretly fascinated by the idea of one's fate being written in the stars or in the turning of certain cards. Here in Tortall, where impossible things were possible, perhaps some truly could see the future. She opened her mouth to question Karmos about his statement, before she could say a word, a bell tolled, and men started to move purposely in a certain direction.

"We should follow," Karmos said, waving towards the men. "The ceremonies will be beginning."

Ana nodded, and they followed the flow of people out of the dining hall. Ana had no idea where they were going; she had lost track of where she was quite some time ago. Finally, they stepped into a temple-like building.

Most of the men were clumped together, talking quietly in small groups, and most of them seemed to be ignorant of their surroundings, but Ana was intensely curious. She looked around her slowly, careful not to miss any details of the room. It was a beautiful place; the walls and floor were all made of a cream colored marble, simple in design, but pleasant to the eye. There were marble benches lining the hall where some of the men sat.

Yet, no matter how hard she tried to study the rest of the room, her eyes kept straying to the very back of the chapel where a huge set of iron doors sat imposingly. There was a bubble of air around the doors, no one seemed to want to get close to them, and Ana found that rather strange.

"The iron doors lead to the Chamber of the Ordeal," Karmos said, seeing the direction her gaze went. "That is where, if you pass the Trials, you will take your Ordeal of Knighthood. It is supposed to be a very…interesting experience."

Ana raised her eyebrows. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

Karmos shrugged. "I'm not sure. People who have already taken their Ordeals are sworn to silence about it. I have never been able to get anything out of my father or brothers about it. All I know is that whatever was in there frightened them terribly. And my father and brothers are not craven."

Ana looked silently at the doors. What could be behind them that could frighten even the bravest of men?

There was a sudden silence in the room. Ana turned to look and saw Will, fully bedecked and crowned, standing before the doors of the Chamber of the Ordeal. His gaze swept around the room like a hawk's, and as his eyes fell on her Ana felt her nervousness return with a painful lurch. They held each other's gaze for a fleeting moment, then his gaze swept past her, and Ana let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

There were a few more moments of silence, and Ana closed her eyes, willing her racing heart to slow. And because her eyes were closed, she began to feel a sensation of warmth on the back of her legs. She opened her eyes and turned her head, searching for the source of the heat, and found a line of sunlight draped across the back of her legs. Looking behind her, she found a set of small windows set in the wall behind her. Through them she could see the sun peeking over the distant hills. Dawn had come.

"Dawn has come," Will said, echoing her thoughts. His voice was quiet, yet it could be heard clearly throughout the room, "let the Trials commence."

~ ~:~ ~


	40. The Knighthood Trials, Part One: Morning

Chapter Thirty-nine: The Knighthood Trials, Part One: Morning

Ana sat quietly on Firedance in full armor, trying vainly to quell the somersaults her nervous stomach was doing. She had been waiting here, along with a hundred or so other competitors, for nearly an hour as they were called, two by two, to joust. And with every passing minute Ana's anxiousness increased tenfold.

They had been brought here, to this out-of-the-way area, to wait after being helped into their armor and brought their horses. It was a place full of tense people; some talked quietly or checked over their equipment, but most just stared off into space, their agitation obvious on their faces. One man had even pulled a book out of his saddlebags in an effort to put off his nerves.

Ana would have liked to talk, but Karmos, the only man she thought would talk to her, had been called early, leaving Ana alone with her worries.

Finally the man in black called her name, and she turned Firedance in the direction so many others had already gone. A few of the men looked up when she left, but most were too occupied with themselves to notice her departure.

She followed a well-worn path, across the palace grounds, to a place where several arenas stood clumped together. In each separate arena men were charging against each other, their lances lowered for the joust. Stands, where people could sit and watch had been erected on either side of each arena. The stands were alive with people cheering for their favorites and booing those who rode poorly.

Leading Firedance into the arena another black-robed man indicated, she mounted, the blood pounding in her ears as she trotted Firedance in a few circles to warm up. Firedance was like rock between her legs; she could feel the horse's muscles twitching impatiently beneath her. It suddenly occurred to Ana that she was a less-than-excellent horsewoman, riding an extremely good horse.

Ana took in a few deep breaths; she was ready. Turning Firedance to her side of the fence, she hefted the lance the servant had handed her, and studied her opponent. He was riding an oversized chestnut gelding; a great beast of a horse that pranced impatiently as its rider was handed his lance. The man was nearly as big as his horse, nearly twice Ana's size, but he sat uncomfortably on the horse, obviously unable to control his monstrous animal. _That will be his downfall, _Ana thought, smiling grimly, _Will's army doesn't need men who can't even control a horse. _From both ends of the arena a bell rang.

Ana kicked Firedance into swift charge, lowering her lance as she swiftly approached the man and his massive horse. The man's lance was aimed at her too, and at exactly the same moment they hit. Ana's lance shattered, spraying the ground with sharp splinters. Her shoulder was numb from where the lance had made contact with her body, but she was still a-horse.

Saying a quick prayer of thanksgiving for her old, but sturdy armor, she seized the new lance the servant held for her and turned Firedance around for another run. Two bells rang, and Ana charged, leveling her lance. Instantly she saw that the man was holding his lance high, intending to hit her small frame with the full force of his explosive charge. Quickly switching positions, Ana lowered her lance, letting the man think his plan was working, but at the last instant she shifted, throwing herself forward and hooking her lance where the shoulder plates of his armor overlapped.

Her plan worked. His lance, aimed too high, just glanced off the top of her shoulder, but he was pushed sideways by her lance and his own momentum. Unable to hold his seat, he was thrown off his horse, landing in the dirt with a dull thud.

Ana grinned, unable to contain her glee. She turned Firedance back to her end of the arena and handed the servant her lance. She dismounted and did a quick check-over of Firedance, to make sure no harm had come to her. Occupied with her horse, Ana didn't notice the enthusiastic cheers coming from the stands on either side of her arena.

~:~

After resting for a quarter-hour, Ana and Firedance tilted again, this time against a dapple grey gelding and her rider. Ana watched as the tow-headed man mounted, nothing the way he carried himself in the saddle and the eager way the gelding responded to his sure commands. He was of middling height, but still bigger than her. He was also more elaborately armored; Ana compared the plain but sturdy armor Lucas had scrounged up for her (it had been made for a boy, and the breastplate was uncomfortably tight around her hips and too big in the shoulders) to the shiny plate that this man wore, with its elaborate scroll-work. It looked like it had been made to fit him, so easily did he move in it. His face showed no tension as he calmly snapped his visor down into place and hefted his lance until it pointed at the sky. Ana swallowed, raising her lance as well, her body taunt.

Firedance tossed her head, snorting, as if to say, _we can beat them. _

A clear note rang across the arena, and Firedance exploded down the lists. Ana cradled the lance, holding the point steady as she aimed low, hoping to replicate the way she'd dumped the previous rider out of the saddle. The distance between the two horses closed rapidly, and at the last possible moment she threw herself forward, snapping the point of her lance upright.

She timed her move just a second too late, however. The man's blue and green striped lance hit her when she was still shifting.

Pain exploded in her right shoulder as her lance exploded in her hands.

She felt herself half lifted from the saddle, and—for a second—the world reeled around her and she was certain she was going to fall. Then Firedance shifted beneath her, moving just enough that Ana was able to heave herself back upright, the muscles in her legs screaming as they absorbed the shock of the blow.

Her shoulder throbbed; the lance had struck a weak point in her armor, denting in a place where two plates overlapped and causing the bottom plate to dig into her shoulder. Ana gritted her teeth at the pain, pulling Firedance up at the end of the lane. She waved away the man in black who approached; she was not ready to concede this match quite yet. Instead she leaned from the saddle, snatching another lance from the hands of the servant who held it out to her.

She settled it into the crook of her arm—ignoring the waves of pain which radiated from the place where her armor was pinching her—and shifted until the butt of the lance was wedged firmly in place. Then she turned, guiding Firedance with her knees, and trotted to the top of the lists where her opponent waited.

Once again, the clear note knelled.

Firedance thundered down the lane toward the gray, her hooves pounding in time with the pounding of Ana's heart. She could see every detail about the shiny knight who rode against her, see the way he was riding forward in his saddle, see the way he held his lance, and the way it was going to hit her with all the power of his steady charge. She adjusted her aim slightly, hoping to dispel the power of his tilt by meeting it head on.

They came together like waves crashing into a cliff. Spots exploded in her vision as the sound of wood splintering rent the air. Ana blinked rapidly, trying to dispel her watering eyes. Her entire right side was numb with pain, but she was somehow—miraculously—in the saddle. She reigned in Firedance, turning to look down the tilting lane.

The other jouster was sprawled in the dust, still clutching the splintered remains of his lance. The gray was nuzzling him, and, as she watched, the man lurched to his feet. He bowed to her, then began to lead his horse away.

The next man she rode against dumped her from Firedance's saddle after two uneventful passes. Ana was almost glad to take the fall, despite the additional bruises she knew were forthcoming, because it meant that she was _done_ with jousting. She bowed to the man who had unhorsed her, hoping she had acquitted herself adequately enough to pass the trial. _I hope I never have to joust again in my life, _Ana thought, to herself, as she led Firedance away from the arena.

~:~

After she'd relinquished the dusty and battered plate armor to another man in black (who frowned at her as he handed her the leather armor she was accustomed to wearing) she was allowed a short period to rest before she and Firedance were led to what appeared to be an empty field. They were to cross the field with a dozen or so other combatants, with only their horse and a wooden practice sword. Ana nearly laughed out loud when they announced it. _We just have to cross the field, _Ana scoffed to herself, looking out at the empty expanse of ground, _a child could do it!_

Soon she would find out how very wrong she was.

She kicked Firedance into a canter, along with eight of the others. The other four hung behind, obviously uneasy, but Ana ignored them, intent on being the first across the field.

After only a few strides Ana heard a strange sort of whistling on her left, and she felt, rather than saw, the horse next to her fall, its rider struggling to get out of the saddle as the horse screamed in agony. At once Ana reigned in Firedance, staring fascinated at the blood gushing forth from the wound in the throat of the horse. It took her another moment to realize why the creature had fallen; there was an arrow protruding from its neck.

That was when the second volley fell upon them.

Ana was caught in the open, and could only hope that none of the deadly shafts found purchase in either her or Firedance. After a moment the rain of arrows stopped, and Ana did a quick check-over of her horse saying another silent prayer of thanks at finding no wounds.

She looked around, and found the other eleven combatants facing similar obstacles. Seven of them were clumped together, trying to fight off a group of pike-wielding men in armor who were obviously trying to get them out of the saddle. Ana saw one of the men drop his wooden sword and hang on to his seat with both hands as a pike tried to drag him backwards.

One man was trying to control his horse as the poor creature screamed and bucked, trying to shy away from the men surrounding it on all sides.

The last two were slowly being pushed backwards by another group of pike wielding men. And through it all arrows were raining down on them. _It's a simulation of a battle field,_ Ana suddenly realized, _they are testing us to see if we can stand up to the stress of a battle._

She took in the whole scene in less time than it took to turn Firedance towards the fray. And as looked again at the chaos in front of her, she felt comprehension dawn on her. The bursts of arrows came in regular intervals, every two minutes or so, but they weren't hitting any of the riders. In fact, they weren't even _aimed_ at the combatants. The horse she had seen fall must just have been a mistake, a miscalculation by one of the unseen archers. They archers and pike-men didn't want to hurt them…just test their skills.

Ana steered Firedance towards the others, fully intending to tell them, and out of the corner of her eye she saw more pikes closing in around her. She was trapped.

A hook pulled at her shirt, and she quickly swung around and broke it. Someone tried to grab at her ankle; she wrapped their hand with the flat of the wooden sword, and felt the hand hastily retreat.

There was a moment's pause, and Ana took advantage of the opening to observe how her fellows were fairing.

_Not well, _Ana thought, grimly, watching as a man was pulled from his saddle. There were only six left on their horses. _They could definitely use a helping hand._

Ana began to slowly make towards where the men were grouped together. They hadn't yet realized the arrows were not aimed at them, for every time the missiles started flying they all ducked, giving the pike-men a chance to get better purchase.

Finally, with a last burst of strength, Ana was inside their circle. "Charge them!" She shouted, pointing her wooden sword towards the end of the field they were supposed to have reached. "They are only pike-men, we can get past them if we all charge together!" The man brushing at her thigh stared stupidly as she yelled at him, but a few of the others seemed to understand.

"On my count," she screamed, several of the men nodded, "one…two…THREE!"

Five of the seven horses charged forward, knocking down three of the pike men in their sudden burst of speed. There was a sticky moment when one of the pikes caught on her tunic, but the fabric ripped, and she was–free!

The five who had escaped bounded the last few steps to the other side of the field, and two bells rang. The pike-men disappeared as quickly as they had come; leaving two rather embarrassed looking men standing alone in an empty field.

~ ~:~ ~


	41. Lunch Break

Chapter Forty: Lunch Break

The afternoon Trials were to recommence when the second bell rang, and Ana took full advantage of the break, using the time to check the extent of the damage to her armor and herself.

Her armor was surprisingly undamaged, but she oiled the places where the leather overlapped and double-checked the seams anyway. Lucas had pounded in the importance of maintaining her equipment, vividly illustrating his point with long stories about knights or warriors who died and/or nearly died because they forgot to do some vital but inane task like mend a saddle or sharpen their sword. Ana was convinced he them made up on the spot, but she understood the warning in the tales, and so took them seriously nonetheless.

Her armor clean and polished, she lay it aside and examined herself. She was not in such good condition. Her right shoulder was tender and bruised where she'd been struck by the lance, and she had a nasty gash on her thigh that must have occurred during the 'battle'.

Deciding that she needed the healing ointment Tohmas had given her, she headed back to her rooms. That was where Lucas found her a half-hour later, deeply asleep on her bed.

"Ana!" he cried, "wake up! This is no time for sleeping. You should be readying for the afternoon trials!"

Ana stirred slowly, and glanced up at him through sleep-filled eyes. For a moment she looked about puzzled, then her eyes widened as she realized what she had done. "What time is it?" she cried, frantically rolling out of bed. "I used my Gift to heal my bruises from the morning trials. It took more energy than I'd expected. I thought I'd just close my eyes for a few minutes…" She trailed off, remembering suddenly the dream that had been waiting for her when she fell asleep. Her cheeks grew warm as a few lingering images surfaced in her mind.

Chuckling, Lucas said: "Don't worry, Ana, you still have a couple of hours until you are called again."

Ana sighed, unsure if she was relieved or regretful that Lucas had woken her. _Definitely relieved, _she thought. "I thought I'd gone and slept away my entire break, for a moment," she said aloud.

Lucas smiled, "You might have, had not Lara decided she couldn't wait until after the Trials were through to see you. She wants to show you our new son. And she sent me as the messenger, of course."

Ana's eyes widened. "She had her baby? And it's a boy! Why didn't you tell me, I would have gone to see her sooner!" She glared at her friend, "Where is she?"

"In the East Dining Hall with the children."

A smile crossed Ana's face, "I suppose she wants to dine with me?"

Lucas snorted. "Of course. And she won't let either me, nor Will join you! She wants you all to herself, and never mind anyone else!" Lucas's voice took on a concerned tone, "Are you quite alright?" he asked, noting the paleness of Ana's face, "you look ready to be sick."

"I think the morning is finally catching up to me," Ana said, distractedly, "I must be hungrier than I thought. I think I'm going to go find Lara." She stood up, and quickly exited the room.

Lucas stared after her, wondering about her sudden change of emotion. He couldn't have known the true reason for her agitation, but he could guess, and he thought that it might have something to do with the mention of his brother and king.

~:~

Will paced the length of his bedroom, as he always did whenever he was perturbed or upset. He'd always found the movement comforting, but not today. No, today his mind could only be occupied with one thing, her. _Why do I spend my time thinking about her endlessly,_ he asked himself, _there are far more productive things I could with my spare hours._

Yet his fidgety pacing did not slow, and his thoughts turned, once again, in the direction they had so often of late.

He had seen her today, at the Rite of the Trials. She had been there, as Lucas had said she would, despite all his anxieties about them being delayed at Silverlee.

He had seen her, and wondered.

She had changed somehow, in the weeks she had been gone. There was something different about her eyes. They had lost none of their brilliancy, none of their cheerful sparkle, but there was something else there now. Something that he could not quite put a name to. Something dark and lonely…something that had nothing to do with learning how to fight, or to control her Gift.

Will sighed, _she is no longer the innocent little bundle I carried off into the desert. But then, _he realized, _I'm not the man I was then either._

Laughter drifted out of a room farther down the hall, startling Will out of his reverie. Looking about him, he realized that, in his preoccupation, he had left his rooms and was now quite far from his suite.

Another burst of laughter drifted towards him. Curious, he started towards the door where it was coming from. Peering around the doorframe he found himself witness to a curious scene. A dozen or so children, ranging from toddler to teen, were lined up to eat their noon meal. The younger children squirmed and fussed while the elder children bade them eat their cabbage and sprouts. Will couldn't help but smile at his nieces and nephews and the way they conducted themselves.

So it wasn't until he turned his eyes from the happy sight of playful children that Will noticed the other two people present.

One he had been expecting, for she was seldom separated from her children, but he hardly noticed Lara for the woman seated next to her.

"Ana," he murmured softly, watching as the red-haired woman laughed at some unheard joke. _It is a wonder,_ Will thought to himself, _that I should wander here of all places._

He hadn't yet been noticed by any in the room, and wishing to keep it so, he threw up a shield with his Gift.

Will knew that it would have been much easier just to leave, but now that he had seen her, he could not quite find it in himself to tear his eyes away.

"So it's her is it?" A quiet voice said from behind him. Startled, Will quickly turned to see who had followed him, but there was no one there.

Will let out a sigh and moved away from the doorway. "I could murder you for that 'lieno. I nearly ruined my breeches."

A ripple of sly laughter drifted from a space to his left, and then, quite suddenly, Will was looking straight into a pair of eyes that were a startling emerald color. Even after knowing Illieno for years and years, Will still got a shock whenever he looked into his friend's eyes. They were just too green.

"You shouldn't complain, oh great king!" Illieno said, with mock seriousness. "After all, you _did_ ask me to follow you about and keep thugs from taking a chunk out of your imperial hide!"

Will made a face. "I didn't mean for you follow me _everywhere_!"

Illieno shrugged, "Well, it seemed like you might need my protecting, you being all off in your own little world and all," Illieno grinned impishly, "besides, if you'd been going to the privy I'd have turned my back before you dropped your royal drawers."

"How comforting," Will said dryly, "I shall remember that every time I go to relieve myself." He began walking back to his rooms, and Illieno followed.

"What were you thinking about, anyway?" Illieno asked with a mischievous grin, "you looked like the walking dead."

Will shrugged. "Just some…things that have been bothering my lately."

"Things?" Illieno asked, his eyebrows raised. "Those _things_ wouldn't happen to detail a certain red-haired Thaylian competing in the Trials would it?"

Will stared at his friend, startled. "Ho–how did you…" he stammered, "how can you think that?"

Illieno laughed shortly. "You talk in your sleep you know."

A deep crimson had crept into Will's cheeks. His dreams had been very vivid of late.

"Don't worry my dearie," Illieno said, clapping his friend on the back, "your lovely little secret is safe with me."

Will snorted. "My secrets are only safe if you stay away from the whisky bottle!"

Illieno shook his head, hiding a smile. "My dear boy," he exclaimed, "I thought you would have known me better by now! It is not the whisky bottle you must dread, but my father's ale!"

Will laughed, "Then I shall just have to detain you at the palace, so you never have time for a mug at the _Crown and Sword_."

Illieno laughed, and they continued on their way, completely at ease.

~:~

Ana smiled happily to herself as she made her way back to her rooms. Dinner with Lara had gone as good or better than she could ever have hoped. The older woman was just as caring and comforting as she remembered. There had been no awkwardness of a meeting after time spent apart. They'd laughed together and cried together as they'd told the other of what had happened during the time they had spent apart. Lara described the pain of childbirth and the joy of the result, baby Gregory. And Ana had told of the Lioness and of the realizations the meeting had brought.

Yet for some mysterious reason Ana was left with a strange sense of loss. In the hour she'd spent dining with Lara it had seemed as if all her troubles had disappeared. She had felt as carefree and unburdened as she had when they'd first met. In fact, Lara made her feel as if nothing at all had changed.

_But therein lies the problem_…Ana realized, her grin fading from her face. _Because since I've been away, everything has changed._

Her good mood spoiled, Ana unlocked the door to the Lavender Suites absently shutting the door behind her as she made her way into the inner rooms. Occupied with thoughts of the past, she didn't at first notice the door to her bedroom standing open, where she had left it closed and locked before.

Then, when the realization of the open door finally penetrated her mind, Ana whipped out her belt knife, memories of a demon-creature vivid in her head. "Is anyone in there?" she called, maneuvering around until she could see into the bedroom. There was nothing in there.

Slowly, cautiously, she inched forward until she was standing just outside the doorway. Using her Gift as Tohmas had taught her, she tried to detect the residue of any spells that might have been laid as a trap for her. After several tense minutes of searching Ana decided that if there were any magical traps she couldn't sense them.

Still wary, Ana moved into the room. Instantly, her eyes were caught by something lying on her bed. Tensing for a fight, Ana crept forward until she could see what had been put unto her bed.

Her jaw dropped in shock as she realized what it was: a sword.

_And not just any sword, _Ana thought in admiration. The sword was beautiful. The hilt was made of an opaque sort of crystal with a wire spiraling around it to provide the grip. It was unsheathed, and she saw, after a moment's appraisal, that the blade was made of the same sort of crystal as the hilt. The blade also seemed to have some scratches in the crystal, and for a moment Ana feared that the sword was damaged, but on closer inspection she realized that what she had taken to be scratches were actually some sort of ancient runes engraved onto the blade. Finally Ana tore her eyes from the strange runes long enough to notice that the crystal sword was not the only sword on her bed; lying happily next to the sword that she didn't recognize was Lightning.

"How did you get here?" Ana asked the crystal sword. Her question was unexpectedly answered as Ana noticed the letter folded neatly beside the sword.

All her fears of a trap suddenly gone, Ana eagerly picked up the letter. It read:

_Ana,_

_This sword is named Naethus. He is an ancient sword, a remnant of a people whose ways were lost long ago. In their tongue Naethus means "Steel Wind". He was found in a ruin of one of their cities and he has been passed down on my mother's side for generations. I now give him to you to carry in your right hand as you carry another in your left. _

_It may occur to you to wonder why anyone would want to part with such an obviously valuably family heirloom. The truth is, I had no use for him, because he is a sword made for a woman's hand and not a man's. I believe that he will do good for you and that you will do good for him. _

_But be warned. Naethus is a sword and he will do your bidding. He is not human. He has not the guilt and burdens that you carry. If you ask him to shed blood, whether of friend or foe, he will shed it. Be cautious of the use you put him to and the judgments you make. _

There was no signature.

Ana stared at the letter, wondering if she dared believe the truth of it. "It could be a trap," she murmured aloud, "but then, why would someone who wanted to hurt me go to the trouble of warning me to be careful whose blood I shed?" The answer was obvious. _To get my guard down, _she thought.

She glanced at the crystal sword again. Despite all her suspicions of a trap, she couldn't help but trust what the letter said. Slowly, warily she reached down and picked up the crystal sword, _Naethus, he is called._ From up close she could see the ruins in better detail, and also that the blade was slightly curved like the scimitars the Thaylian army used for decoration at feasts.

Picking up the scabbard she sheathed the crystal sword, and then slung it over her back. It lay over her left shoulder as if it had always rested there. Automatically she reached for Lightning, slinging it across her other shoulder. The two swords balanced each other perfectly, and when Ana reached up with both her hands the two swords slid out of their scabbards as easily and freely as if she's been doing it her entire life.

"Naethus," Ana whispered, "meet Lightning."

~ ~:~ ~


	42. The Knighthood Trials, Part Two: Arrows

Chapter Forty-one: The Trials, Part Two: Arrows

"…only the best stand before me now. Those who have done well in the morning Trials will now go to test themselves more fully in the afternoon Trials…"

Standing invisible beside the King, Illieno tried desperately to hold back a yawn as he scanned the rooftops and windows surrounding the courtyard for any threat to his friend.

The opening ceremonies for the afternoon Trials were always rather lengthy and rather boring. How Will managed to recite the same hour-long speech every year and not go insane was a mystery to Illieno. He'd fallen asleep during the Afternoon Ceremony at his own Trials. The only good thing about the afternoon Trials was that there were less people, the worst of them having been weeded out during the morning Trials.

"…by enduring various final tests of skill and cunning you will have the privilege to sit vigil outside the Chamber of Ordeal…"

Illieno shut out the sound of Will's "King voice" and tried to concentrate on protecting his friend. But his eyes kept drifting away from his duty. _Well, _Illieno thought, _it's not as if he doesn't have protection here._ Illieno glanced towards the rows of the King's Own lined smartly up behind the pavilion Will was speaking from. There were also layers upon layers of protective spells that he couldn't see. _And it's not as if Will himself is helpless either._

Assured that Will was aptly protected, Illieno allowed his gaze to roam more and more among the rows of people waiting to attend the afternoon Trials. Most of them had a half-scared, half-determined look upon their faces. Illieno had to hold back a chuckle as he remembered what it felt like to wait to be called. He did not envy these people at all.

Suddenly his eyes fell on the red-haired woman he had seen in the East Dining Hall with Lara. He smiled to himself as he remembered the look in Will's eyes when he had been watching her from behind his shield of magic. Will had been in love with women before, perhaps not nearly as many as his father or brother, but enough for Illieno to recognize the signs. Yet, Illieno puzzled at why Will had not yet broached the subject with her. Usually Will was much more forward in his pursuit of women, and Illieno couldn't help but wonder why he was treating this Thaylian girl so different.

Studying her from a distance, Illieno watched as suddenly she turned her head away from where Will was standing. She looked around for a few moments, gripping tightly what seemed to be some sort of necklace, then began to shift her weight back and forth anxiously. Illieno couldn't blame her for being restless. If Will's speech went on any longer…

The Thaylian girl's head whipped around suddenly. She paused a moment, as if she wasn't quite sure what she was seeing, and then began to push her way to the edge of the crowd.

His curiosity perked, Illieno watched her slow progress. She was heading towards the edge of the crowd closest to the stable that had burned down…

And then he saw it.

It was the glint of steel that first gave away the archer hidden in the blackened husk of the stable. As soon as he spotted him, Illieno knew that archer was there to cause harm to the King. The Thaylian was just breaking free of the crowd, but it was still a long ways to where the archer stood. She'd never make it. Without thinking Illieno moved in front of the King. The archer couldn't see him, but the arrow would have to go through him and his ring-mail before it reached Will.

Illieno watched in slow motion as the archer released his arrow. As he tensed his body for the blow his eyes found the Thaylian girl, running towards the remains of the stable.

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of violet light, and Illieno watched in amazement as the arrow headed straight towards him disappeared.

~:~

Ana stood breathlessly in the spot where, only a few moments ago, the assassin had released his arrow. The blackened remains of a bow and quiver lay strewn on the ground, but the archer was no where to be found.

Her Gift had taken care of the archer's weapon, and the arrow he'd released, but it had not taken care of the assassin himself. Ana could have screamed in frustration. There were no signs of where the archer had gone, and therefore nothing that Ana could use to track him.

_How could I have let him escape? _Ana angrily thought, gripping the Lioness's necklace tightly, _he was trying to kill Will!_

As she stood surveying the ground in frustration, Ana suddenly became aware of the sounds of cheering from the crowd. She turned back towards the pavilion, letting the pendent go, just as Will raised his hands for quiet. The cheering ceased and Will smiled around at the crowd.

"Let the afternoon Trials begin," he said.

Ana frowned, her eyes searching the crowd of spectators and the King's Own lined up behind where Will was speaking. It seemed as if no one except herself had noticed the archer's attempt at killing the King.

For some reason, that scared her more than the original assassin had.

~:~

"Dammit Will, I swear in the names of all the Gods and Goddesses combined, there _was_ an assassin there!" Illieno threw up his hands in frustration as his King just shook his head at him.

"'Lieno, I know you think there was an assassin in the burned barn, but it's impossible. We've had men searching the entire area for signs of an intruder, and there is nothing there. Nothing. Just ash and char from the fire!"

Stifling a frustrated cry, Illieno went to stand in front of Will, their faces almost touching as he glared right into his friend's eyes. "Since you don't believe me," he hissed, "ask your Thaylian red-head. She's the one who reduced him to ash and char."

Will's eyes widened. Illieno smiled, he couldn't help the triumphant feeling that washed over him; it had been exactly the reaction he'd expected.

"Ana?" Will managed, after a moment. "You didn't say that she was involved before."

Illieno shrugged, his smile fading. "You were so adamant that I was wrong. You never gave me a chance to bring her into the story."

Will sighed, a very long release. "Perhaps you should start from the beginning," he said.

~:~

Ana closed her eyes.

Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, memories, and sensations. The events of the morning, noon-time, and afternoon seemed almost too much for her brain to contain. The jousting…the "battle"…her lunch with Lara…Naethus…the assassin…it all spun through her head like an unending vortex of events.

But now was definitely _not_ the time to lose herself in those troubling thoughts.

Drawing a few deep breaths, Ana slowly emptied her mind of everything that had happened today, everything that had ever happened, every emotion, every experience, every thought; until there was nothing left and she floated in a darkness of nothing.

Her eyes snapped open.

The world was suspended in mid-motion. The people surrounding her were frozen in action, like living statues. The wind wasn't blowing. Even the sun had stopped moving. In front of her the target seemed to loom larger and larger until it filled her entire vision…

Without thought, without emotion, without time, or sound, or awareness, she released the arrow.

Time sped up. And as thought fled back into her mind, the arrow sailed straight into the heart of the bull's eye. It sliced through one of the two others already embedded there.

"Gods!" Karmos exclaimed, from the target next to hers. "How could anyone beat three shots like that?"

Ana let out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding.

"I suppose they could put all three on top of one another," Ana said with a smile that didn't extend to her eyes.

A horn blew, signaling the end of the Archery Trial. A balding man in black moved through the men and woman lined up in front of the targets. To some, he gave a green ribbon to signify having passed the Trial. To others he gave nothing.

Ana already possessed a red ribbon for Horsemanship, a blue ribbon for Staffing, a yellow ribbon for Wrestling, an orange ribbon for Jousting, and now, for the man in black handed both her and Karmos a ribbon, a green one for Archery. She tied the new ribbon onto her belt, where it hung proudly next to the others.

More horns blew, and the man in black turned to the assembled archers. "Only those who have all five ribbons may proceed to the final Trial," he said solemnly. "Follow the lights."

Ana turned to Karmos as the man in black seemed to disappear into the setting sun. "Follow the lights?" she asked, an eyebrow quirked.

Karmos shrugged. "I haven't done this before either," he said. "It seems awful mysterious, though."

Ana smiled. This time it made it all the way to her eyes.

Exiting the building where the Archery Trial had been held, they followed the crowd of men moving along a path where little blue lights floated like fairies. Ana pointed out the dancing lights to Karmos.

"So that's what they meant by 'follow the lights'," he said.

"They are so pretty," Ana smiled.

"I know," Karmos said softly. Ana was startled at the sudden change in his voice. She glanced over at her newfound friend and for an instant she thought she glimpsed… _No, _Ana thought, _I imagined it. _Yet she couldn't shake the funny feeling that Karmos was not exactly who he said he was.

Her uneasiness slowly faded though, as they made their way towards the mysterious final Trial. Now was not the time to add another vague thought to the commotion that was her mind. She had to focus, to empty her head as she had in the Archery Trial.

They turned a final corner and before them they could see a familiar building standing stolidly in the rays of the setting sun.

"Ana," Karmos whispered, "that's the Dueling Plaza."

A slow smile spread across Ana's lips. "The final Trial is Dueling?" she asked.

Karmos nodded. He looked rather nervous. "I'd forgotten about this part," he said.

Ana just grinned.

~:~

Many, many thousands of miles away from where Ana awaited the final Trial a man marched intently across the sprawling military camp, while a nightmare creature flew silently back into the night. Both Ana and Illieno would have recognized the man, for it was the same man who had tried and failed to assassinate the king. Yet, though his attempt at murder had failed, the archer seemed in a very happy mood as he whistled his way to his commander's tent.

Inside the tent, Li Dubyn impatiently awaited the arrival of his assassin. He paced back and forth, his horrendous imp face sneering at the portrait given to him by a certain Traitor. It was a good likeness of Ana, though had been originally painted of the Lioness. Li Dubyn could only hope it had been good enough for his assassin to recognize her in a crowd.

The archer entered the tent, silently saluting his commander.

"Did you do what I instructed?" sneered the Imp.

The assassin nodded sharply. "She reacted just as you thought she would," he said. "When her magic touched my arrow the spell transferred to her. It will take a few weeks to get to its full potential, and then she'll be as drawn to you as a moth to a lantern."

Blood red eyes narrowed at the archer. "And you're sure no one else saw you? You know what the consequences are if someone did?"

"Of course, My Lord!" the man said, his knees shaking slightly, "My spell made sure anyone within a league of her wouldn't notice either me or my arrow."

"And you covered those who might be made invisible by magic?" the Imp growled.

"Yes, My Lord. I made sure the spell was especially strong for those who had any morsel of the Gift. No one knew I was there but her. And I even added a counter spell to make sure she, and anyone she happened to tell, would forget the entire incident a few hours afterward."

A slow, evil grin spread across the handsome face of Li Dubyn as the words sunk in.

"Perfect."

~:~

There was something he was supposed to remember. Something important. What had it been? Illieno shook his head, hoping the feeling would leave him, but his brain kept telling him that something was not quite right. His eyes roamed the crowds surrounding him, but there was no sign of danger. In fact, he thought, things had been surprisingly calm today. There had only been a few minor brawls that the Own had quickly been able to quench, and there had been absolutely no attempts at harming the King.

A shiver ran down Illieno's spine as the words ran through his head.

Something important…

_No,_ Illieno thought, _I'm becoming jumpy. Everything has been quiet as an empty tomb at midnight._

But then why did he feel so uneasy?

~ ~:~ ~


	43. The Knighthood Trials, Part Three: Duels

A Note From Nessa'fur:

Thank you to EVERYONE who has reviewed! Your comments inspire me, and keeping me chipping away at this story. I'm off, actually, to another night of writing as we speak (after an INCREDIBLE Sunday. The weather was crappy, but it was (and continues to be) a beautiful day, nonetheless.) but I thought I'd post another chapter first for your enjoyment, before _I _dive in.

Peace,

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Forty-two: The Trials, Part Three: Duels

Will paced a well-trod path through the length of his chambers. If he left all the doors open he could walk from his bedroom, to his study, across the formal sitting room, through a side door into his personal library, out onto the balcony, and back inside into his bedroom in a sort of circuit. It was the path he took whenever he needed to free his mind, for the movement steadied his thoughts and calmed his body.

Lately he had taken to walking the route more and more often, as his mind was being filled with more and more thoughts and worries.

War was coming. War he could not hope to avoid.

He had sent out his messengers, with their call to arms; sent out his best diplomats to argue his case before to all of the countries and tribes and peoples that Tortall had ever called ally.

Many had answered his call. The arrival of the desert tribes was a particular surprise, for they were fierce and prideful breed, and had long refused to acknowledge the King of Tortall as either liege lord or ally.

Others had disappointed him. The ambassador from the Yamani Islands had politely, but firmly, declined to get involved in a war that did not directly threaten them, and his spies in the Copper Isles had informed him that most of Parliament was set against him. Their reactions to his news and his requests did not surprise him. He had expected as much from them. He hadn't even bothered sending a man to Kingdom of Cartak. They were too far away to help, and had never been Tortall's friendliest neighbor. Thaylia was useless as an ally, as Will well knew from his brief time there. They didn't believe in such things, for they had no knowledge of the Gift, much less of the dark magic that Li Dubyn employed. He put Thaylia from his mind, trusting to their long tradition of ignoring each other, though he knew that it was a dangerous gamble he took in choosing to ignore them.

No, Tortall would have to stand alone in his fight. And though many had answered his summons, there were still many who refused to leave their homes. He had tried, through his messengers, to emphasize that the Scanrans were a dire threat to all who stood in their way, yet still some chose to ignore the fact that their best chance at victory came in uniting together, not making separate, desperate last stands.

Then there were the Trials. There had been a remarkable number of people both competing, and attending the Trials this year. Will could only hope that enough would survive the Ordeal to swell the army's ranks for the coming war. _And even those who do not earn the knighthood must fight, _he thought, _for we will need every available sword in the coming battle._

Will knew, that—even with the alliance with the desert tribes, even with the swelling of his army's ranks from the Knighthood Trials...and even if the Gods of old decided to intervene—it might still not be enough to defeat Scanra.

Very likely this would be the last war that Tortall as a country would fight. If they lost there would be no more Tortall. But perhaps, just perhaps, some of his people would survive. By fleeing into the hills and mountains they might conceal themselves in ancient caverns, or hide in the desert. _And that is why we must fight, _Will thought for the thousandth time, _if my people are to have any chance at survival, we must at least give them a head start._

In his meandering, Will stepped onto his balcony and paused in his walk, his eyes drawn to a path of floating lights leading to the Dueling Plaza. The Dueling Trial would be starting soon. All of his other worries rushed out of his head at the realization, leaving only a single thought: Ana was down there. It never occurred to him that she might not have passed the other Trials; intuitively he knew that she already had.

Will stared longingly at the Dueling Plaza and suddenly an uncontrollable jealousy rose up inside of him. Illieno was down there, watching the duels. His friend had promised to give him every detail, but it wasn't the same. _He_ wanted to be there, where Ana was. He wanted to see her fight. He wanted to see her win. _I want to see her use my mother's sword._

And he could not.

It was a tradition dating as far back as the Trials that the King was not to attend the Final Trial. _That is, _Will thought, _until the very end._

But he couldn't wait. He had to know…but how?

A memory from many years past floated before Will's eyes. His father speaking to him of the Knighthood Trials.

"_Son,"_ his father had said, _"since the time of the first Trial a King has never attended the Final Trial. Always they have waited until the proper time. Always."_

That was it. The King did not attend the Final Trial. Therefore he would not go as the King.

Will returned to his bedroom and rummaged in his wardrobe until he found what he was looking for. It was a tunic of Lucas's that he had once stolen from his friend's room. Pulling the shirt over his head, he found himself in a mirror and smiled at the reflection. The bigger man's tunic fit perfectly over his ceremonial black, neatly concealing what lay beneath.

To complete the look, Will waved his hand in front of his face. For a moment his features seemed to contort. Finally they settled, and a blonde man with high cheekbones stared back from the mirror. His eyes were still the same blue, but there was nothing he could do about that—one could not easily change eye color.

"No longer a King," the blonde said, throwing a cloak over his shoulders and stuffing a few essential items into a satchel.

~:~

A bell rang, and the man lunged for her, swinging his over-sized mace to her left side. Unable to block fast enough, Ana rolled, coming up on the man's right side. Naethus whistled through the air, aiming for an opening, but he blocked it with the shaft of the mace.

"This win will be easy, _girly_," the man jeered, leering into her face.

Ana didn't reply. Instead she swung Lightning in an arc, forcing the man to jump backwards to avoid getting split from nose to naval. His movement freed Naethus and she advanced forward for a duel attack from both sides. With his mace it was important that she be close enough for him not to be able to use it to its full potential. She needed to stay within the chain's reach in order to stop him from swinging the monstrous weapon and taking out both her swords.

He blocked her attack, but was unprepared for her follow-up with Lightning and he jumped sideways. Instantly Ana saw her opening and thrusting right with Naethus as she pivoted and swung Lightning left, stopping the swords' swing an inch from the man's neck.

"Easy?" Ana smirked, "yes, that was easy." The man's eyes narrowed, but before he could attempt anything a bell rang, signaling the end of the duel.

They fell apart and Ana bowed as was customary, but instead of bowing the man spit at her feet. "I will not honor you," he said. "A woman with a sword is like a merchant selling glass as diamonds. Only trickery could have won you the duel, as only trickery could win the merchant money for worthless goods. There is no honor in you to respect."

With those words the man left the arena, and Ana was left standing alone, seething with barely contained anger.

A man in black approached her, informing her of where her next duel would be held. She nodded curtly, striding irately towards the arena he had indicated.

Yet, when she got there she found that the first duel had still not finished, and so she leaned against a pillar watching the lunging forms of the duelers in the arena, fighting the fury that the mace-man had stirred in her.

"I heard what he said," someone said from beside her. Ana tore her eyes from the duel and found herself looking into a pair of bright blue eyes.

"Wi–" she started to cry, but no, she realized. This man was not Will. He was blonde instead of dark-haired, and the features of his face were completely different…_yet his eyes_… "I'm sorry," she said quickly, "what did you say?"

The blonde man smiled and Ana's heart skipped a beat. _Who are you?_ she wondered. _Why do you remind me so much of Will?_

"I said, 'I heard what he said'," the blonde repeated. "The man in your last duel, that is. You looked so upset that I just had to find you and tell you that it is not true. I have seen a couple of your other duels, and I can honestly say that you are definitely not winning through trickery." Ana blushed at that, and the man's grin widened, "It takes real ability to be able to fight with two swords as skillfully as you do."

Ana smiled faintly at the compliment. "Thank you," she said, trying to not look too embarrassed. "I don't know what came over me. Something about the way he said those words just filled me with rage."

The blonde man looked suddenly very serious. "It is a dishonor to not bow to the loser of a duel, but it is an even greater disrespect to not bow to a winner. I am afraid that you have made an enemy today."

Ana's eyes turned inward. "I have many enemies," she said distantly, thinking of Marc.

A few moments passed while neither said anything for Ana thoughts were in the past, and darkness had come into her eyes. The blonde didn't disturb her, knowing it was best to let her find her way back to the light on her own.

She came back to herself to find the blonde man's astonishing sapphire eyes fixed on her face. "Who are you?" she started to ask, but before the words were completely out of her mouth a bell rang in the arena, signaling the end to the duel.

"I am being called," she said instead, moving forward to the arena to stretch and warm-up, but the man caught her sleeve. At his touch electricity seemed to shoot up her arm. Startled, she looked back at him.

"Good luck," he said. Ana nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat as he released her arm. Slowly she turned back towards the arena, her heart pounding. There was just something about him…

~:~

Will let out a ragged sigh as soon as Ana was out of hearing shot. He'd been stupid, approaching her like that, but he hadn't been able to resist. The duelist's words had filled him with such a rage that he had recklessly done what he had promised himself he wouldn't.

His hand still tingled with her touch. Suddenly he ached to tell her who he was; who he really was. She'd almost asked…the words had been half formed…but the bell had interrupted her. _Perhaps it is for the best_, he thought, watching as she began to stretch, down in the arena.

Suddenly, a hand grasped his shoulder, spinning him around. Then Will was face to face with the duelist that Ana had defeated. Anger bubbled up inside of him. This man had dishonored Ana.

The man looked him up and down with a sneer, his arms crossed critically. Behind him Will glimpsed several other men, all with angry looks. "You are friends with that _whore_?" the man asked, nodding towards the arena where Ana stretched.

Will's eyes narrowed. "She is no whore," he growled. The threat was loud in his voice.

The man threw his head back and laughed. "No woman could have defeated me, Aaron of Narrow Creek," he sneered, when his mirth had finally died away. "She must have tempted the King himself to have learned those moves, surely only an enchantment from him could have allowed her to win."

Will's muscles tensed dangerously. This man had no idea of the impact of what he had said. His hand inched towards his sword. Aaron of Narrow Creek smiled as he reached towards the mace slung casually into his belt.

"What is going on here?" a loud voice suddenly boomed. Instantly, the anger went out of Aaron and his men, as Lucas and a couple of the King's Own stepped amongst them. Will could have cursed Lucas's good timing. He would have dearly loved to teach this haughty noble a lesson he would not easily have forgotten.

Lucas wasn't put off by the sudden calm surrounding him. The Own was charged with keeping things peaceful at the Trials, and he wasn't about to let this go. "Well?" he demanded, "I do believe I asked you a question."

"Lord Commander," Will said, "we have a disagreement about the result of one of the duels."

"Oh?" Lucas said, and eyebrow quirked, "I do hope you have not been gambling. I would not be very happy if I found that to be the truth." He glowered at them both.

"No, My Lord," simpered Aaron of Narrow Creek, "it is simply that I believe one of the duelists is cheating in their fight, and this good man," he indicated Will, "disagrees with me."

Will's mouth opened to defend Ana, but the man standing just behind Lucas caught his eye.

It was Illieno.

Illieno's eyes were fixed directly on his face, his brow furrowed. For a few moments they stared at each other, then Illieno's eyes moved downward and caught on Will's sword. Silently Will cursed himself for not disguising Darkfire as he had disguised himself. Illieno looked back up into his eyes and frowned disapprovingly.

"Is this true?" Lucas asked. Will tore his eyes away from Illieno and looked at his brother-in-law.

"Ana does not cheat," Will snapped, seeking to end the disagreement quickly.

The reaction was instantaneous. Lucas's eyebrows shot up. Illieno took a step forward, and the Own men's faces snapped around to look at him. They all knew the name.

"Ana…" Lucas said slowly, searching his face. He turned to look at Aaron and his men. "You think that Ana," he pointed towards the arena where Ana was blocking a thrust with her left sword and attacking with her right, "has cheated in her duels?"

The sneer returned to Aaron's face. "There is no other possible way she could have defeated me. I have trained for the Trials since I was five," he said.

Lucas frowned. "I am afraid that you are mistaken," he said. "If Ana defeated you, it was just as fair and legal as if another man had defeated you."

"And how do you know that?" Aaron pressed.

Lucas smiled. Somehow it came off as sinister. "Because I trained her," he said.

The look on Aaron of Narrow Creek's face changed from slowly from arrogance to fear as the full meaning of the words sank in. For a moment he searched the faces surrounding him, obviously looking for any allies. There were none. Taking a quick breath, he nodded curtly; then he and his cronies made a rather hasty exit. Will wanted to laugh, but he restrained himself.

"Follow them," Lucas commanded to the two Own's men. "Make sure they don't stir up any more trouble." They nodded sharply and moved in the direction the other men had gone.

As soon as they were out of earshot Illieno advanced upon him. "Are you insane?" he hissed. Will cringed, but Illieno wasn't through yet. "You wanted me to protect you, yet you go around picking fights over the littlest thing!" Illieno poked Will in the chest. "You _swore_ to me that you wouldn't leave the pa–"

"Illieno!" Lucas cut in quickly. "We are not alone," he said simply, glancing meaningfully at the crowds surrounding them.

Will looked back and forth between his two friends. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I don't know what came over me. I just…I had to…" Will stopped and looked directly at Lucas. "You didn't want to miss her either," he challenged.

Lucas sighed. "No," he admitted, "I didn't want to miss her either."

Illieno snorted. "I cannot wait to meet this girl," he said, shaking his head. "She seems to be having a polarizing effect on everyone."

Will turned to look towards the arena as a bell rang. Ana stood there with both her swords pointed directly at her opponent's heart. He smiled. "That she does," he said.

"Will!" Lucas exclaimed suddenly. Will turned to look curiously as his brother-in-law grabbed his shoulder. "That was the second to last duel!"

Will's eyes widened and he started frantically pushing his way through the crowds. Illieno followed closely behind, but Lucas turned towards the arena where Ana was bowing to the defeated duelist. "Only one more win," he said, though Ana could not hear him.

~:~

Ana smiled as she stretched. This was it, the deciding duel. Whoever won this would be the top contestant at the Trials.

_I wish I could have a good rest before fighting this one,_ Ana thought, holding back a yawn. It had been a very long day, and the constant fighting was wearing on her. She had more scrapes and bruises than she could count, and her muscles were all sore from the continuous exertion.

Across the arena her opponent also stretched. It was a bigger arena then any of the others she had yet fought in, reserved especially for this, the most important duel. Also bigger was the crowd. People of all ranks were packed solid around the arena, everyone wanting to see who would come out on top.

Ana's eyes scanned the throng, hoping for a glimpse of a familiar face, but she recognized no one. On the other end of the arena her opponent was joking with a few of his friends. Ana sighed, she had no one. Not even Lucas was here…

"Ana!" someone behind her called. Ana turned her head to see Lara and Lucas approaching her. A delighted smile broke across her face as Ana ran towards the both of them.

"I thought you weren't going to make it," Ana said, hugging them both.

"What do you mean?" Lucas asked, "I've watched every duel you've fought!"

Ana's eyes widened. "You have?" she asked.

"Of course! I wouldn't miss my prodigy," he said, smiling. "And I would have been here sooner, but I had to fetch my lovely wife," he put his arm around Lara's waist.

Ana smiled, though her eyes were a little wet. "Thank you," she whispered.

A bell rang, signaling the duelists to move into the arena. Ana turned to pick up Lightning and Naethus, but they were gone. "Where?" she started to ask, but then she saw Lucas and Lara each holding one sword.

"Good luck," Lucas said, handing her Lightning.

"Goddess bless," Lara said, handing her Naethus.

Ana nodded and stepped into the arena.

~:~

Two bells rang at once and Ana whipped her swords into the "guard" position. The man in front of her did the same with his strange weapon. It was a unique device; a staff with a foot of steel attached to either end allowing the wielder to use it in a wide variety of ways.

For a moment there was total silence, as the crowd waited breathlessly to see who would make the first move.

Suddenly the man whipped the staff around, feinting left and attacking right with a sideways swing. Ana blocked the thrust with a downward swing of Naethus, instantly spinning and bringing both swords slashing diagonally across his chest.

The man pivoted, catching her attack with the shaft of the staff. For a moment they were locked together, Ana trying to force his staff downward, then he thrust left and rolled right, coming up with a low swing.

Ana jumped, avoiding the flashing metal, and in mid-air swung both swords in a double cross cut. The man jumped backwards to avoid her swords, giving Ana time to regain her balance. There was a split second pause, then Ana tensed and spun into a double spin attack. Unprepared for the unusual move, the man was forced to roll left, and when he came up Ana was already attacking, forcing him backwards towards the edge of the arena.

_If I can get him against one of those walls I've got him,_ Ana thought, swinging in two directions at once to keep him moving backwards.

The man seemed to sense her intentions, for instead of blocking her left thrust with Lightning he dropped to one knee beneath the sword's arc and came up with an up-ward moving swing. Ana, realizing her mistake too late, was forced into a back-flip to avoid being spit in half.

She landed awkwardly, with one foot too far to the right, and so was unprepared for his left thrust. She moved to block it, but then realized too late that it was only a feint. She swung Naethus quickly to stop the jab to her right side– but not fast enough. The very end of the man's blade caught in her right thigh, drawing the first blood of the match.

But the duel was not over. This duel did not end with first bloodshed, as had the others. Ana had yet to give up and surrender. Ignoring the stinging pain and the blood dribbling down her leg, she gritted her teeth and rolled left, coming up with a combination attack to his left side. He dodged the first lunge and blocked the second, but was unable to escape Ana's follow-up. A thin red-line showed suddenly against the white of his tunic, running diagonally across his chest.

Now they were even.

Ana swung into another combination attack, but this time the man was ready. He parried the first two slashes, then, instead of trying to block the third, he thrust upward with the shaft of his staff. Unbalanced, Ana tried to attack his unprotected left side, but he spun– catching Lightning with his left blade and flinging her from Ana's hand.

Lightning skidded across the arena, stopping in the opposite corner.

Ana felt suddenly very naked.

His victory in sight, the man came at her with a flurry of attacks. First up, then down; then left, right, across…faster and faster until Ana's arm became numb from blocking so many times. She was being forced slowly backwards, and in her peripheral vision she could see the wall looming up behind her.

Exhausted from the long day, dizzy from the cut in her leg, and on the edge of defeat, Ana let go of her thoughts.

She floated within her mind, just as she had in the Archery Trial.

And suddenly, she was no longer being forced backwards. Her arm moved automatically, parrying the blows that rained in from all sides, but her feet did not move. Her opponent realized she had stopped moving backwards and thrust harder, always to her side without the sword.

But he had forgotten that she was ambidextrous.

As the man thrust to her left side, Ana rolled right, and the staff swung harmlessly above her. Expecting to meet resistance the man was unbalanced, and took an awkward step forward. Ana came up with Naethus in her left hand and struck at his back. The man blocked her thrust– but just barely.

Smoothly switching hands, Ana feigned right, then switched again and went left. The man stumbled backwards, and Ana was on top of him, switching hands every time she cast a blow. Now it was him being forced backwards and her attacking.

Ana kept forcing him backwards until something just to his left caught her eye. It was Lightning.

The momentary distraction cost her. He spun suddenly and caught her left attack square on. His blade was on top of hers, and he was stronger, forcing her downwards.

There was only one thing to do. Ana set her feet firm in the ground and let go, dropping Naethus onto the ground. Instantly she was moving, diving past the man's left side. Taken completely unawares, the man stumbled forward; the strength he had been using against Ana suddenly turned against him.

He regained his balance, only to find a sword resting casually upon his shoulder, dangerously close to his neck.

Dropping his weapon and holding his empty hands upward the man turned slowly to find himself looking into a pair of hard, violet eyes.

Three bells rang at once; the duel was over.

~:~

Ana's thoughts flooded back into her head as the bells rang and the crowd exploded into thunderous cheering. Carefully she lifted Lightning away from the man's neck, and bowed to him. Smiling slightly he bowed back.

"You are an excellent fighter," he said loudly, when he had straightened. "It was an honor to duel you."

They were the first words she had heard him say.

"You too, are an excellent fighter," Ana replied over the cheering crowd, "the honor was mine."

The man smiled, then bent and picked up Naethus from where he lay on the ground. He held the sword out for her, and she thanked him as she grasped the hilt.

"I wish you luck," the man said, then, retrieving his own weapon, he quickly exited the arena, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Ana's brow furrowed. _What did he mean by that?_ she wondered.

The crowd went suddenly silent.

Her heart pounding, Ana slowly turned towards the center of the arena. There kneeled a man, his head bowed and hands folded. A sword lay in front of him on the ground. _Where did _he_ come from?_ Ana wondered.

He was dressed all in black; even his face was covered with a black mask so that there were only slits for his eyes.

Ana stood there, covered in sweat and blood and dirt and stared at him. Long moments passed. The dark man didn't move a muscle. Ana's arms ached, her leg burned, and her nose itched.

Then–faster than Ana could ever have imagined–the man erupted from the ground. The sword seemed to leap into his hand, and he was charging her. Ana stood her ground and waited for him. She had a major advantage in having two swords, but she was tired and dizzy and weak.

Just before he reached her Ana leapt to the side, but he seemed to sense that and moved with her. He swept his sword towards her left side and she parried him with both swords. Instantly he broke away circling her and attacking from various angles. She blocked them all, but every time her arm muscles screamed in agony. His attacks were viciously hard and unthinkably fast.

After a few more moments he started to toy with her, drawing her into a variety of attacks, all of which he successfully parried without, seemingly, very much effort at all. He danced around her, fluidly wielding that sword as if it were not a weapon but simply an extension of his arm.

Ana knew that he could have ended the duel at any moment, his skill was at a level that much exceeded her own, but he didn't. He was playing with her, seeing what she was capable of, testing her.

_You want to know what I can do? _Ana thought, _Then let us dance. _

Ana let go of her thoughts, letting her body move automatically through all of the various forms and moves that Lucas had taught her, Naethus and Lightning blurred around her as she sparred with the masked man.

And every moment she burned with curiosity to know whose face lay beneath the black mask.

A plan started to from in the recesses of her mind. She backed off from her attacks, leaving herself open more and more often. He refused to take the bait. Instead he ignored the openings and sought to draw her into more aggressive attacks. She wasn't taken in; she pretended to be blissfully unaware of the momentary opportunities for attack that arose. Finally the man in black became frustrated with her lack of aggression. Seeking to end the duel, he slipped his sword into a hole that conveniently opened in her defense, and his sword flicked Lightning out of her left hand.

Ana thrust Naethus upward to meet the masked man's downward swing, gritting her teeth as his greater strength bore down on her sword. For a moment they were frozen like that, only a pace apart, their eyes as locked as their swords.

And then Ana dropped Naethus, darting forward to snatch the mask from his face. The mask fell away beneath her hands and Ana stared up at a familiar impassive face, even as she felt the heavy weight of a sword come to rest on her shoulder.

"Will…" she whispered, looking into his bright eyes. He stepped back, his sword whipping off her shoulder to point at the floor. He bowed to her, his face devoid of emotion. She returned the bow automatically, a little dazed. Then she straightened, opening her mouth, but before she had a chance to say anything else a happy crowd enveloped them both.

~ ~:~ ~


	44. The Chamber of the Ordeal

Chapter Forty-three: The Chamber of the Ordeal

Ana sat silently on the cold floor of the Chapel of the Ordeal, her eyes locked on the iron doors just a stone's throw away from her, and her fist clenched tightly around the amethyst necklace the Lioness had given her. She was not the only one in the Chapel–for there were many others who had passed the Trials sitting vigil with her–but she might as well have been alone. She paid no heed to their presence, though they paid much to hers; glancing at her continually as the night wore on. They were not allowed to speak, not until they had each completed their Ordeals.

The night waxed and waned, but Ana's eyes never left the doors of the Chamber of the Ordeal. She was tired, exhausted from the long day of fighting and the long journey that had preceded it, but she did not sleep. Her thoughts kept her wide awake.

She thought of her past; of the sickness that had once wracked her body and of the City where she had once lived. She thought, with regret, of her Mother, her sister, her brother, of the journey to Isthma and then to Tortall. She thought of everything that had happened to her since the time the Tortallian King had stolen her from the garrison at the edge of the Thaylian Empire. She thought and she stayed awake, her eyes never wavering from the set of iron doors, though sometimes tears blurred her vision.

And she did not make a sound.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun rose. The first rays of morning crept across the floor of the Chapel, yet they seemed subdued, as if they knew what the people in the Chapel of the Ordeal would be facing this coming day and they sympathized.

For the first time since she had sat down to begin her vigil, Ana stirred. Though her wounds had been attended to the previous night, they still ached and burned when she shifted. Ana swallowed the groan of pain she so desperately wanted to make and kept her silence.

Suddenly there came a loud rumbling noise. Some of the drowsier men sat up alarmed, though none of them cried aloud. The rumbling noise grew louder and for the first time Ana felt a twinge of fear; the doors of the Chamber were opening. It was time.

~:~

Karmos watched as Ana rose rather shakily, though resolutely, and started towards the iron doors of the Chamber of the Ordeal. Karmos couldn't help but admire her; she'd sat silently and motionlessly all through the night and now she strode firmly towards the most feared place in Corus as if it were any other room she was entering and not the Chamber of the Ordeal.

Ana didn't seem to notice the Chapel filling with even more people than had spent the night here; she was concentrating fully on the room she was headed into. Karmos noticed, observing the growing crowd with apprehension. _What if one of them should discover my secret?_ He thought nervously. He had passed without detection this far, now he had only to pass his own Ordeal and all would be well.

Another rumbling announced the beginning of Ana's Ordeal. Karmos watched as the iron doors closed slowly behind Ana's dim form. He felt a sudden, almost painful, stab of fear for his new friend. _I may never see her again_, he thought sadly, _may the Lioness watch over her_.

~:~

Darkness.

Darkness everywhere. Surrounding her. Touching her. Prodding her. Hurting her. Darkness seeping into her very soul, pushing out everything that was light and good in her being. This time she had no violet light to drive the darkness away. She was alone. Alone with the darkness, drowning in it.

She hated the darkness. Hated it and feared it. Tears from the pain sprang into her eyes, and she felt a sob rising in her throat.

_No_.

The thought came calm and clear through the center of her panic.

_No, I am not to speak. Not even to cry out_.

She bit back the sob, swallowing it even as the darkness swallowed her.

Then it was gone. It was still dark, but now it was the simple dark of night and not the darkness that she had faced in tomb of the Lioness.

Ana let out a silent breath. For the first time she registered that she was in the Chamber of the Ordeal. _It's just another test_, Ana thought, trying to push back her fears, _another Trial_. Yet she couldn't help but fear whatever the Chamber would throw at her next; the darkness had nearly broken her.

She looked around her, really seeing the small room for the first time. It was completely empty, just four stone walls without any windows or doors, save the ones she had entered through.

Suddenly she realized that she was no longer alone in the Chamber. From the shadows in one corner Ana could see something moving slowly, awkwardly towards her. The creature's folded wings dragged along the floor and made an unpleasant scraping sound. Ana cringed. A demon.

_I have no weapon_, Ana thought frantically, _it will kill me!_ She stood frozen as the demon limped closer, grinning its evil, inhuman grin. For a few more moments she was paralyzed. Then she sprang into action, her fear turning into grim resolution as she leaped to attack the monster bare-handedly.

The instant before her out-stretched hands touched the beast it burst apart, exploding into a thousand snakes. They slithered up her legs and over her body, covering her entirely with a writhing mass of cold, hissing serpentine flesh.

Ana neither moved, nor cried out. She knew that with the smallest twitch they would bite her. Sweat rolled down her back and her leg itched where a snake had found its way into her breeches. She stood motionless with fear and fought the urge to scream or shiver or gasp. Her heart pounded ruggedly in her chest. The feel of smooth bodies gliding over her own was driving her mad.i

Just as she thought she could take it no more, the snakes disappeared. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered with revulsion. _I hate snakes_, she thought. _I just _hate _snakes._

Suddenly she heard the voice of her mother from behind her. Ana whirled around to see the Empress of Thaylia crouched on the ground, her head in her hands, sobbing mournfully. "Why did you leave us Ana?" her mother whispered. "Didn't you love us anymore? Didn't you want to be with us? We have needed you, Ana. I have needed you."

Ana tried to go to her, to comfort her, to tell her no, she hadn't wanted to hurt her. But the more she tried to reach her mother, the farther away she seemed to be.

Tears filled Ana's eyes. She had not thought of how her family must have reacted to find her gone in so long. She had not thought of the pain she must have caused her mother, her sister, Darius.

Instantly her mother was replaced by a handsome man she did not recognize. He was standing regally, holding a wicked scimitar that seemed to glow bluish-black in the faint light. He smiled, amused, at a spot over her shoulder and suddenly the handsome face was gone, replaced by a horrible nightmare. Blackened, burnt skin, cracked bloodless lips, and eyes the color of newly spilled blood. "So, the King of Tortall will face me at last," the creature laughed, revealing a mouth that burned with the fires of hell.

_Goddess, its Li Dubyn_, Ana realized.

From behind her Ana heard another sound. A sound that made her heart stop cold.

She turned her head away from the Imp, looking for the source of the sound.

It was Will, laughing.

"We've both been waiting a long time for this," Will said, drawing his sword.

Li Dubyn nodded. "So we have," he said, and threw himself at Will. Ana leaped to intercept him, but the Imp gestured with his free hand and Ana found herself behind a barrier of air, watching helplessly as the man and the Imp battled each other.

It wasn't much of a battle. Will was bleeding almost immediately, while the Imp seemed to take no injuries at all. Blow after blow rained down on Will, until finally he simply lay on the floor of the Chamber, dying slowly. His life was seeping from more wounds than Ana could count, pain filling his sapphire eyes. "Help me," he cried to her, his voice grating and raw. Li Dubyn had disappeared, but Ana hadn't even noticed. All she saw was Will. "Please Ana. Heal me." His eyes pleaded with her, and she reached her hands toward him, desperate to help him, but instead of healing magic a torrent of purple flames shot from her hands. Will screamed in agony as violet fire consumed him.

_NO!_ The cry rose up inside her and Ana had to clap her hands over her mouth to keep it back. _I cannot cry out! _Tears streamed endlessly down her face as she watched Will being burned alive from her own magic, and she, helpless to save him.

She collapsed unto the floor of the Chamber, swallowing the bile that was rising in her throat. She lay there for several moments, wondering what the Chamber could throw at her that could possibly be worse than what she had just witnessed.

Nothing came. After several minutes she finally summoned enough courage to raise her eyes off the floor and look about her. The Chamber of the Ordeal was empty.

Or so it seemed at first. A few moments passed and Ana slowly began to discern that one of the walls seemed to have a shimmery quality to it. Ana rose to her feet to inspect the wall more closely, when suddenly the wall seemed to become transparent, revealing the scene beyond it.

It showed a person she had seen only in her dreams, a small boy of three or four, with black hair and violet eyes, running happily through a corridor she recognized as one in the palace. Her heart skipped a beat as his laughter drifted into her ears, carefree and innocent.

The boy ran up to a large man who Ana could not properly see, though his shape seemed vaguely familiar. The black-haired boy tugged playfully on the man's sleeve, wanting him to join in the fun. Ana felt a twinge of dread as the man slowly turned, revealing the face Ana hated and feared more than any other.

Marc stared down at her son, his handsome features slowly shifting into a sinister grin. He bent down, crouching and whispering in her son's ear. The boy nodded happily and turned around, covering his eyes with his hands and starting to count as if playing hide-and-seek.

Ana surged forward, banging her fists on the wall. She knew what was coming next. She knew and she would have done anything to stop it. Her mouth opened, but the scream that waited did not come. She watched, pounding fruitlessly on the transparent wall, as Marc quietly unsheathed his sword and lifted it above his head. A moment later he brought the flat crashing down, smashing into the back of her son's unprotected head.

The doors of the Chamber opened and Ana lurched out, the image of her son's shattered head and the spattered blood still vivid in her mind. Tears stained her cheeks and blurred her vision, but she stumbled forward.

At the edge of the platform Will and Lucas caught her, helping her out of the Chapel past the rows of people awaiting their own Ordeals.

She made it halfway to the Lavender Suite before she collapsed. After that Will carried her, laying her gently in her bed once they reached her rooms. Lucas left to find a healer for her hands; they were bruised and bloody from pounding on the wall.

"Sleep," Will said, putting a hand on her forehead, "you need it desperately."

Though Ana was so very tired, her eyes shutting of their own accord, but she still found the strength to grab Will's arm. "I won't let it happen," she whispered, a small sob shaking her. "I won't let him die."

Will looked down at her. He reached his hand out once again and a small current of blue magic flowed between his hand and her head. "You won't let who die?" he asked gently, not really expecting an answer.

Ana's eyes were closed. Sleep was taking her quickly. "Terrence," she sighed, falling instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Terrence." Will repeated softly. He stared down at the woman sleeping peacefully, filled with an emotion he could not name. A little bit of surprise, a little bit of hope, a little bit of fear, and a little bit of…something else.

"I won't let him die either," he whispered.

~ ~:~ ~


	45. The King of Thieves

Chapter Forty-four: The King of Thieves

She woke in the night.

Later, Ana would never quite be able to recall what had woken her, but wake she did.

She sat up slowly in her bed, moaning softly as her battered body protested the movement. She was still dressed in the ceremonial white that she had worn into the Chamber of the Ordeal. For a moment she sat there, wondering why she had woken.

Then she felt it, a soft whisper of wind on her cheek, telling her to get up.

It was the same wind that had guided her to the ruined city on the shore and the tomb of the Lioness. The same wind that helped direct her arrows and swing her swords. It was her friendly wind that had woken her and it would be her friendly wind that showed her where she needed to be tonight.

Ignoring her body's painful protests, she pulled back the covers and slipped out of bed.

Naethus and Lightning were both hanging on their own pegs next to the door, and Ana quickly grabbed them and slipped them over her shoulders as she passed.

The wind was strong on her cheek tonight. It led her quickly through the hallways of the palace past the Upper Library and the stairwell leading down to the kitchens. There were a few more twists and lengthy corridors, staircases and empty rooms, and then Ana found herself in an area of the palace which she had never been in before.

_That isn't really saying much, _Ana thought,_ as the palace is so huge that I could probably spend the better part of my life here and not see it all. _This part of the palace wasn't as ruinous as some she had seen, but the spider webs and piles of dirt told of seldom use. Her friendly wind guided her down a short hall into what looked to be one of the palace's many towers. The tower was empty but for a stairway that spiraled sharply downward.

Ana knew, from what she could guess of where she'd come, that she was fairly high in the palace, probably on the third or fourth level. From what she could remember of Lara's tour, this was the level where all the nobility kept their rooms and suites for when they were staying in the palace. Below that was the level where all the administrations of the palace took place: the offices of all the ministers and the various record vaults. The second story was devoted to healers and magic usage, while the first held more suites and areas where teaching now occurred. The ground floor consisted of the public rooms: libraries, ballrooms, salons, banquet halls, the Chapel of the Ordeal, and the tourney arenas. Below that were the servants' wings, and the floor below _that_ held the dungeons and guardrooms. The twisting staircase sank even farther into the earth than the dungeons, as Ana could tell by the number of landings.

The steps became lengthier as she descended farther and farther into the earth. Her legs ached from the long descent, but the wind on her cheek urged her onward, down, down the steps. Finally, Ana reached the fourth level below ground and the last. The walls were moist and a little moldy, and there were hundreds of plaster boxes lined up in rows.

With a start, Ana realized that they were all tombs.

The ones nearest her were ancient, the plaster crumbling to reveal the bones inside. Ana walked stiffly by them, somewhat humbled to be in the presence of so many dead. She followed her friendly wind, making her way slowly through the old catacombs.

The tombs ended somewhat abruptly, and the room opened up into a great stone floor. There was a blackened design etched into the floor, the various loops and curls making a dizzying pattern that stretched, circular, throughout the whole chamber.

And right in the center of the design was a sword, half of the blade thrust into the floor.

Ana walked slowly forward, knowing instinctively that this was what her friendly wind had wanted to show her—this sword in this place. Her hand touched the hilt softly, her fingers sweeping over the cracked jewels and the burned pommel. The shape of the hilt was achingly familiar, she could almost see herself holding it...just like that...in her left hand...

"'Tis a strange sight, isn't it? Not every day you see a sword half buried in solid rock."

Ana jumped, her thoughts instantly disrupted by the unknown voice. She glanced around, her hands automatically reaching for her weapons, and noticed a tall man leaning casually against a ruined pillar. The tall man held his hands up to show he was unarmed and grinned in a mischievous way.

"Didn't mean to scare you, lass," he said apologetically, "I mean no harm."

Ana shook her head, putting her hands at her side once more. "I should be apologizing," she told him, "I shouldn't have jumped so quickly for my swords. I was startled."

The man's teeth flashed in another grin, "I understand," he said with a wink, "my own dear lass is a warrior. She's just as like to stick a sword in me than kiss me."

Ana laughed in spite of her wariness. The man was disarming in a friendly sort of way, but she couldn't help but remember another friendly fellow who had ended up betraying her. "I'm sorry to be rude, sir," Ana said, "but who are you?"

The tall man laughed heartily, his broad shoulders shaking. He crossed his arms casually as he leaned against the pillar, but his posture was somehow tight and alert as well. He reminded her of a great cat she had once seen in a zoo; the panther had been crouched, motionless in the branches of the tree that concealed her from the squirrel that had haplessly wandered into her enclosure. This man somehow gave off the same sort of sinuous poise, of restrained violence, though his features were not overtly threatening. In fact, his smile was full of mischievous charm, though his prominent nose spoiled his otherwise good looks. "You are a cautious little one aren't you?" he chuckled, "I don't blame you for not trusting me; after all, I used to be a thief."

Ana's eyes widened, "A thief?"

"Yep. A good 'un too. Then I got a pardon straight from the King and I was forced to turn respectable. My official title is Baron Cooper, but all my friends call me George." The big man shrugged, and grinned that devilish grin once more.

Ana couldn't help but like him. "I'm Ana, milord," she said in return.

George wagged his finger at her. "It's _George_, little one. You'd best remember that."

"_George_," Ana said with a smile.

"That's better," he said. "Now what's a lass like you doing down here in the crypt so late at night? Shouldn't you be resting? From the sound of it you've had a hard day or two, coming in first in the Trials and all."

Ana was unsurprised that he'd heard of her; lately it seemed as if everyone she met already knew who she was. "I was just wandering around," she said truthfully. "Why are _you_ down here?" she asked.

"Now, don't get all suspicious on me," George said with a wink. "I like it down here, makes me feel closer to history."

"What do you mean?" Ana asked, her curiosity aroused.

"You see that sword?" George asked, pointing to the sword thrust into the ground. "That is the sword that the Lioness herself carried from her first year as a page until after she was a knight. Its name is Lightning."

"What!" Ana gasped. She put her hand out and touched Lightning's hilt. _How could I have a sword called Lightning, but there also be a sword called Lightning stuck in the ground?_

George misunderstood the reason for her gasp. "I know," he said, shaking his head, "'tis amazing isn't it? Alanna herself stood right here, fighting the Duke Roger in order to save both Tortall and the King, Jonathon."

"When was that?" Ana asked.

"A long time ago," he said, in the most solemn voice he'd used so far. Then he proceeded to tell the tale of how Duke Roger had been brought back to life by Alanna's sorcerer brother, Thom, and how the Duke had planned to take over Tortall by destroying it with a massive earthquake.

"...and so Lightning was left here, in the middle of the Gate of Idramm," George finally finished.

Ana sat cross-legged next to the former thief, both of them facing the blackened sword. It had been an especially interesting tale for her, for it told of how and why her father had died, in the distant recesses of this world's history. She sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, then murmured, "That must have been quite a sword."

George nodded. "It surely was," he told her, "it was made by the Old Ones, a mysterious group of people who lived in this land long before us Tortallians ever came to inhabit it. They were a people of great magic; anything made by them was greatly treasured, though often thought to be useless.

"There is a little known fact about objects made by the Old Ones, however."

Her curiosity perked, Ana sat up straighter. "What's that?" she asked.

George leaned in, as if to inform her of a great secret. "Everything the Old Ones made has a twin," he said finally.

Ana frowned. "A twin?"

The tall man nodded. "As they would have said, 'With the Lightning comes the Thunder.' The Old Ones believed that everything had two sides; light and dark; yin and yang, that sort of thing. So they made everything in pairs. Two candlesticks. Two winebottles. Two steel breast plates. Two swords."

Ana glanced from the blackened blade in front of her, to where her own sword lay next to her. Then she looked back up at George, who was smiling at her in a knowing way. "I understand," she said quietly.

George Cooper put a hand on her shoulder. "I told you that my own lady chose the way of the warrior. It wasn't an easy road for her to walk, but she was very strong, and I think I can see some of the same strength in you."

Ana looked into George's hazel eyes, wondering who this man really was. "Who are you?" she asked abruptly, "Who are you really? How do you know all this?"

George's teeth flashed as he grinned that trademark grin. "I suppose you could say I'm a historian. I know a lot about history."

"Ana?" A voice called from behind her.

Startled, Ana jumped to her feet, whirling around to face the newcomer.

Violet eyes met sapphire. "Will?" Ana cried.

There was an embarrassed pause. Both of them stood there, looking awkwardly at each other's feet. Ana felt a blush rising to her cheeks as she remembered the shapes of her dreams before she had woken this night. Then Will said: "What are you doing down here? No one ever comes down here."

Ana hesitated. "I..." she said stupidly. She looked around at George. "I was just--"

She stuttered to a halt. George Cooper was no where in sight.

"Did you see him?" she asked Will, "Where did he go?"

Will frowned. "Who?" he asked, looking around. "I saw no one except you."

Ana stared. _He was here,_ she thought,_ I saw him. I talked to him. He must have left when I turned around. _"What are you doing down here, Will?" Ana asked, to distract him.

It was Will's turn to hesitate. "I like to come down here, sometimes," he said softly. "I like being around my ancestors. It's...comforting."

"I'll go," Ana said, hoping to ease the awkwardness that had sprung up between them. "I wanted to watch the rest of the Ordeals anyway."

Will looked up sharply. "I'll come with you," he said, "it was a stupid idea to come down here anyway. I need to be active among the living, not brooding among the dead."

Ana nodded, reaching down to retrieve her swords. Then they started back through the crypt, the silence stretching uncomfortably. The old tunnels were fairly broad, but profusely littered with the debris of ages. In this part of the catacombs, the tombs had been reduced to rubble that they had to pick a careful path through. Ana focused on her feet, trying not to stumble. She could sense Will only a few steps behind her, his footsteps muffled by the dank air that filled the lowest levels of the palace. Their way was lit by a small sphere of blue light, similar to the ones Ana had seen Tohmas conjure. The little blue sun traveled with them, hovering about their heads for awhile, then drifting away to illuminate the path ahead.

"Will," Ana said suddenly, "do you happen to know who George Cooper is?"

Will looked up at her, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Of course, everyone knows who George Cooper is."

Ana just barely prevented herself from heaving a sigh of relief. _So I _didn't_ imagine him,_ she thought happily.

"After all," Will continued, "not only was he the King of Thieves and later Spymaster in his time, but he was also married to the Lioness. He has his share of the legends, for he was an extraordinary man in his own right. They say that when he was the King of Thieves he kept a collection of the ears of the men who disobeyed him, and—after he was awarded his barony—that he was a thoughtful and just governor of Pirate's Swoop."

Ana stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping in astonishment.

"George Cooper is the name of the Lioness's husband," Ana repeated, her voice disbelieving.

Will frowned at her, confusion flickering in his eyes for a moment before his face settled into his usual impassive stare. "Has no one told you that it was George Cooper who gave the prophecy that the Lioness would return again?"

Ana shook her head. "Lara didn't cover that part of the story," she muttered.

"Did she not speak of the Lioness's husband?

Ana looked over at him. "I remembered she said that he led the army that broke the siege on Corus, but I don't remember her telling what happened to him after that."

Will inhaled a deep breath, then said, "I think I can tell his story while we walk."

Ana nodded, flashing him a grin, then continued along through the tombs. Will's voice floated up from behind her, telling her of George Cooper.

"When the Lioness left Pirate's Swoop to ride to Corus," he began, "she left her husband and children behind to defend Pirate's Swoop against the Scanran's siege. Pirate's Swoop had yet to surrender to the Scanrans, though they were surrounded by both sea and land, for George Cooper was a wily man, and had outfitted the city well to deal with the constant threat of attack from pirates. They say that Pirate's Swoop was riddled with bolt-holes and secret passages, and it was built so that it could be easily defended. But the Scanrans did not move to attack the city, preferring to prolong the citizen's suffering by choking off supplies and starving them out. They say that demons feed off of fear, so the Scanrans were content to wait, for with every passing day the people grew more fearful and anxious, in their uncertainty of just when the attack would come. George Cooper was not one to waste time, however. From the beginning of the siege, George had been smuggling out the most vulnerable citizens of Pirate's Swoop through the underground tunnels that had been constructed for just such an emergency.

"That was how the Lioness escaped to ride to Corus, and it is also how George Cooper and his men were able to escape the siege. Legend has it that the demons woke one morning to find their source of sustenance gone, for Pirate's Swoop had been emptied during the night. They destroyed the city in their anger, but many of them were killed in the process, for the people of Pirate's Swoop had left behind a myriad of booby-traps and pitfalls to greet the conquerors."

Ana giggled as she turned a corner and found the bottom of the twisting staircase in front of her. She remembered George Cooper's impish grin, and thought that that man _would _be a trickster.

"What happened after the Siege of Corus was broken?" Ana asked, "When did he give the prophecy? What happened to George after the Lioness died?"

Will smiled at her impatient questions, saying, "George was wounded during the battle. It is said that he knew when the Lioness was wounded by Devon Peron, for he felt her pain as his own, and thus he faltered in the midst of battle and was gravely wounded. He lay in the healing ward, dying even as the Lioness died a few stories above, in the chambers they had shared in the Palace. They say that he knew, also, when the Lioness died, and that he cried out the prophecy as she left this world forever. They were his final words, for he died after uttering the last syllable."

Ana paused in her steps, turning to look down at Will for a moment. A memory surfaced in her mind, the Lioness muttering, "_And I _know_ George knows something about that whole fiasco—blast him and his Sight." _The Lioness had died, and so had George Cooper, but she had seen and talked with them both. _Does that mean that George Cooper became a God when he died as well?_ She wondered.

"What is it?" Will asked, his blue eyes curious.

Ana blinked, suddenly embarrassed to realize she'd just been staring at Will for several seconds. "Nothing," she muttered, turning back around and starting up the steps again. Will began his story where he'd left off, telling her of the Lioness's children, and how they had mysteriously disappeared after taking their parent's bodies back to the ruin of Pirate's Swoop. But her mind strayed from Will's narration, and a blush crept across her cheeks as she found herself simply savoring the sound of his voice, echoing as it did, in baritone notes that rose up around her as she ascended upward.

~ ~:~ ~


	46. Lady Knight

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Sorry about the delay in the update, my computer was doing a bit of freaking out yesterday (it was a day for tantrums. To be fair, we both did our share of freaking out). Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I was especially grateful to everyone who made nice comments about my treatment of George. Every time I write/post a chapter with Alanna or George (or *cough* other cannon characters) there is always a little bit of necessary freaking out on my part, because I am always _certain _that I didn't do them justice. In all honesty, I prefer writing my own characters because _I know them, _you know? It is SO INTIMIDATING to write someone else's characters, especially when they are as awesome and beloved as TP's. Kudos to everyone on this website who has risen to the challenge multiple times. You are braver than I am.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Forty-five: Lady Knight

Karmos stood determinedly in front of the Chamber of the Ordeal. The hours had passed with a steady line of men walking slowly into the chamber and then stumbling their way back out. Every once in awhile, a scream was heard to issue from the Chamber, and the doors would open again. Some times a man would run shrieking from the iron doors, and not a few stumbled out only to lose the contents of their stomachs into the basins that the men who rushed forward to aide them held. Sometimes, the doors would open and no one would emerge. Then there was a pause, before the next man strode forward to enter the chamber.

The sky had darkened long ago, and still the men took their Ordeals, with many more waiting outside for their own turn. Spectators came and went in the hours, and sometimes a man in white would rise from among the number still kneeling in vigil, and quietly disappear amongst the crowd.

Now it was Karmos's turn. The slim man took a deep breath to steady his quaking limbs, and stepped through the heavy iron doors.

Instantly the doors where slammed shut, and his body was lifted into the air and thrown against them. Pain seared through his entire body, pain unlike any he had ever felt in his life. He felt like his entire body was on fire, or being hacked to bits, or pounded with a blacksmith's hammer. Two hot tears streaked down his face as he bit down on his tongue in order not to scream. His hands and feet were paralyzed, he couldn't move a muscle even if he'd wanted to.

Then, in the midst of the pain, he heard a voice in his ear, a voice that seemed to be all around him as if it came from the walls themselves. _They told you, little girl,_ said the voice, _but you didn't listen. You can't have any protective magic on when you enter. Your mask is being stripped away. Everyone shall see you for who you truly are. The pain is the price of breaking the rule._

The pain seemed to increase with the words, splintering and oscillating into greater and greater shards of torture.

Karmos felt as if he spent an eternity against those doors, his head about to explode with agony.

Suddenly it stopped. He hit the ground with a heavy thump, but the pain of hitting the floor was nothing compared to the torment he'd been suffering.

Still groggy from the pain, he lurched slowly to his feet.

And then his Ordeal truly began.

~:~

Ana and Will entered the Chapel of the Ordeal just as the doors were opening to admit the newest knight. The official ceremonies would be held on the morrow, when all the supplicants had taken their Ordeals, but the real Ceremony of Knighthood was the Chamber and not the anointing oils.

There were gasps of surprise from the crowd as the person stumbled weakly from the platform. The new knight looked ready to collapse, yet Ana could see that no one was stepping forward to help them. Her anger aroused, Ana pushed roughly through the crowd in order to help the poor person stumbling from the platform.

Ana recognized Karmos's black hair and slim form before her eyes really took in what she was seeing. She rushed forward, throwing Karmos's arm over her shoulder and putting her own arm around her small waist.

It was only then that Ana realized what the crowd had been gasping about.

"You're a woman," Ana said in amazement.

"Yes," she gasped. "My name is Karma."

Ana couldn't help but smile. "Welcome to Knighthood, Karma," she said happily.

~:~

"Will someone please explain what the hell is happening?" Lucas cried, throwing up his hands. Frustration was evident on his face.

Ana opened her mouth to answer, but found no explanation forthcoming. Will seemed to be equally tongue-tied. They both hesitated, trying to find a way to describe what had just occurred in the Chapel of the Ordeal.

"My lord," a soft voice came from behind them. Lucas turned to face the slim, dark-haired woman addressing him.

"My lord," Karma repeated, "I must apologize for the uproar. I never meant to cause such a commotion."

"That doesn't answer my question, young lady," Lucas growled.

Karma dipped her head apologetically. "I defied the laws of my country, my lord. I disguised myself as a man and competed in the Knighthood Trials, though it was forbidden by the edict of King Frances IV. I know I have broken the law and that my punishment will be severe." Karma raised her chin proudly. "But by other laws of this country I am officially a knight. I completed the Trials and the Ordeal. If I am to die then let it be known that I died a knight of Tortall."

Lucas shook his head. "Why are you appealing to me? I am not the King."

"I wanted your counsel, Lucas," Will said softly. "It seems we have quite a conundrum here."

"What do you mean?" Lucas asked, curiously.

Will glanced back and forth between Ana and Karma. "Well, by the currently standing laws of Tortall Karma has committed a crime punishable by death."

Karma's expression did not change, she stared straight ahead, her face frozen in an indifferent expression.

"But," continued Will, "Karma completed the Trials and her Ordeal, which proves her worthy of knighthood, and in this upcoming war we will need all the capable knights possible," Will paused. He glanced at Ana. "And there is one other complication."

"What's that?" asked Lucas.

Will glanced meaningfully at Ana again. "Well," Will said hesitantly, "by the same laws Ana, too, should be put to death."

Lucas stared. "That's absurd! They shouldn't be put to death for wanting to be knights."

"Yet, that is the law," Will replied solemnly.

"Well what stupid King made that law?" Lucas asked harshly.

"That would be His Majesty's great-grandfather," Karma said matter-of-factly. A hint of a smile played about her lips.

Lucas looked stricken. Then his expression changed, and he said, "Well, Will you're the King. Why don't you change the Mithros-cursed law?"

Will smiled. "I just wanted your approval, brother. I will need your help to convince the council to agree to change the law. "

~:~

Karma heaved a long sigh of relief as soon as she stepped from the room.

"They didn't punish me," she murmured disbelieving. She looked over at Ana, who had exited with her. "I broke the law, and yet they did not punish me." Her face held an expression of wonder.

Ana smiled kindly at the other woman. "They really are very nice, you know."

Karma glanced back at the closed door. "It wasn't for me that they will change the law," she said quietly. "They love you, not I."

Ana shook her head. She started walking in the direction of her rooms. "I think you underestimate them," she replied, "Will has much respect for you. You completed the Trials and your Ordeal against all odds. They would have changed the law, even had it not affected me."

Karma looked over at Ana, beside her, her dark eyes suddenly very serious. "I would not have tried for my knighthood, had it not been for you."

"What do you mean?" Ana asked, wondering if she wanted to know the answer.

Karma looked straight ahead, avoiding Ana's gaze. "There are those who say you are the Lioness come again. You have her look, you have her Gift, you have her fighting ability. Before you won the Trials you were already inspiring the Tortallian people, but now you shall inspire their love as well as their courage."

"Karma." Ana said, putting her hand on the other woman's arm."I am not the Lioness come again," she said seriously. "I am simply the daughter of a Tortallian and a Thaylian. I have the Gift and I have the desire to be a warrior, nothing else."

The dark-haired woman smiled. "If you say so, milady," she said complacently, but her face expressed her doubts.

Ana grabbed her shoulders, roughly. "If you are going to be my friend you had better not call me 'milady' ever again. My name is Ana, do you understand? _Ana._"

Karma grinned. "Yes, Ana," she said. And then, quietly, "friend?"

Ana smiled over at her fellow lady knight. "Of course. After all, we lady knights should stick together."

Karma smiled her agreement.

"Now," said Ana conspiratorially, "there's someone else I want you to meet."

~ ~:~ ~


	47. Council of War

A Note from Nessa'fur:

I know that this fic is getting really long, and I know a lot of you are wondering just how long its going to get. Well, I did the math today, and--with the six or seven chapters I still have left to write--it looks like Violet Fire is going to top out at about 70 chapters or so. Ridiculous, I know, but I've got a LOT of loose ends to tie up. I hope you all will stick it out with me, and have patience with my rambling storylines. Yes, there _are _quite a few unnecessary plot twists and turns, but--after all--what is fanfiction for if not to allow for a chance to indulge a writer's whimsy?

Also, just a little bit of a warning about what is to come. After a lot of reflection, I've decided NOT to up the rating of VF to M (16+ for mature teens). I will say, though, that there are some pretty dark and violent themes that will be explored in the coming chapters. Also, like TP before me, I've never shied away from the fact that sex, death, pain, prejudice, and irrational behavior do exist in Tortall as well as elsewhere. However, there _is _a plot line later on that deals with sexuality in a way that some might not find appropriate for younger teens (I, personally, think it is a shame that many people cannot talk openly about sex and sexuality in our society, but that's just me). I have tried to write it in a subtle way, to keep it within the T rating, but understand that this is simply my interpretation of TP's universe and the people who might populate it in the future.

Once again, thank you to all of my reviewers! I hope you enjoy this next little installment. I'm looking forward to posting the next two chapters (after this one) because they are a couple of my favorites (at the moment).

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Forty-six: Council of War

Spring had come to the mountains.

Li Dubyn looked down at the melting passes before him and smiled his horrible smile. It was time. Behind him, half of his army was pitching camp, preparing to move south with him, while the other half stayed, to provide the distraction.

His spies had informed him of the completion of the Knighthood Trials. It would not be long before the King marshaled his forces to send against him. Li Dubyn was impatient with anticipation. He could smell the sweet scent of victory on the wind.

Soon all the mountain passes would be open.

Soon the Thaylian would come to him.

Soon he would crush Tortall in his fist.

~:~

The feast was to be a grand one. There were more new knights to anoint this year than in any other year in anyone's memory. In a usual year, people would crowd the Great Hall in order to witness the knights swear fealty to the King. This year, Will knew, people would crowd the entire city of Corus.

But the celebration could not start until the last supplicant had taken his Ordeal, and there was still a long line of waiters in the Chapel of the Ordeal.

Will was not one to waste time, however. If they could not yet anoint the new knights, then they could make preparations for the coming war. He had already sent out riders to every village. Two to the villages and fiefs closest to the Scanran threat. His message was one of warning and sanctuary. Citizens were urged to leave their villages and move inland to Corus. Will hoped to avoid the worst destruction by moving the most vulnerable of the population to the capital. From there they would have time enough to flee if the army failed to stem the Scanran flow.

He had also sent out a call to arms, with his warning. All of the fiefs wealthy enough to afford a garrison were urged to join them. There weren't many. Mostly, Will knew, he would have to rely on the King's Own and the knights of the realm to answer the call.

Already knights and men-at-arms were pouring into Corus. But for every man who came to swell the ranks of the army, messages came telling of two that stayed to defend their homes. He had known that it was inevitable that some would not answer his call, but the news disappointed him just the same.

He knew that there was too much to do to waste time brooding about things he could not control; supplies to be found, spies and scouts sent out, mages to organize, battalions to train. So it was early the next morning that Will called together a war session with the Council of Elders (so named, not in description of their respective ages, but in their collective experience and wisdom).

Some of the faces around the table were very familiar to his eyes. Lucas, his Lord Commander of the King's Own; Tohmas, his Chief Healer; Johona, who coordinated the various wildmages and kept the animal portion of his army content and under control; Lord Clemens who commanded the general army; Sir Kevan, the head of the treasury, as well as his other ministers. There were also the various representatives from the merchant and artisan's guilds, as well as the ranking members of the noble Houses that swore allegiance to the country of Tortall. They all were as familiar to him as his own face in the mirror.

But there were also faces missing.

Rob, his head Mage, had been murdered by his traitorous brother, Marc. The new head Mage was a young man named Harrison, known for his ability with the Gift, but sadly inexperienced.

There were other new faces as well. He had invited the Voice of the Tribes to sit, once again, around the long oval of the council's table. He sat proud and erect, his dark face impassive, half-way down the table. He was surrounded by the leaders of the various tribes that had ridden to the capital to fight, with him and with Tortall, for their collective freedom from the Scanrans.

There were two other spots missing at the table. One was the spot left empty by his spymaster. Will had yet to officially appoint another man to the job, but he was in no hurry to reveal to these men just who, exactly, he had chosen for that particular position. After all, though he had known most of these men for many years, he couldn't be certain of their individual loyalties and allegiances.

The sight of the apparently empty chair was both a twisting reminder and a secret satisfaction. The wound of Marc's betray still smarted, but it eclipsed by the satisfaction Will felt in knowing that the man he had secretly wanted to sit in that chair for years was probably lounging there at this very moment, unbeknownst to the men seated on either side of him.

Illieno was already showing excellent promise as his Spymaster, his unique ability allowing him access to places they had not even dreamed of going. Illieno was his secret weapon, the dagger he had hidden in his metaphorical cloak.

The other empty seat was traditional; the right hand of the King was always left open. It was the place of the King's Champion, and it had been empty since the Lioness had fallen in the Scanran War.

But Will intended that it should be empty no longer. He had seen it in his dreams; it was time that Tortall had a Champion once again.

Now he had only to put the idea before his fellow council members, then they would debate over it, working out compromises all around, until someone made a motion to vote on a resolution. It was rare to have a new law voted in (or an old law voted out) in just one meeting of the council.

This was the part of governing that he hated most, the subtle political games that were played. Though he, as King, still retained ultimate executive power in governing, he was strangled by the necessity of maintaining these men's allegiance, for it was their men, their money, and their resources that he used to keep Tortall whole and prosperous. Power he had, but politics had swallowed power. To accomplish what he wanted he could not simply ask or order it done, he had to gain the allegiance of the right people, promising where he'd rather not promise and covering his anger and impatience with a polite smile and courteous words. The nobles were the most frustrating to deal with, he hated having to maneuver through their tangled mire of plots, ploys, promises, innuendos, and subtle threats given in a polite tone with a toothy smile.

It was a delicate game he played. The nobility of Tortall were a fading power, but still a force to be reckoned with nonetheless. The nobility clung to their names and their remaining lands; in their individual fiefs they were still essentially Lord and Master, and for many years they had been allowed free reign over their people, for the monarchy of Tortall had been more figurehead than inspiring leader. It had only been in the last century that the Kings of Tortall had reasserted their hold over the fractured country. Though he was loathe to acknowledge it, Tortall had Thaylia to thank for its current state of unity. Will's grandfather had watched, through his spies and his trading partners, as Thaylia had conquered the southern continent. They sent their missionaries first, but it was never long before the Imperial army followed behind, with their guns and their crisp, smart discipline. When he knew that the Thaylians would come to Tortall, his grandfather had rallied the people of Tortall by riding, personally, to every fief and village that he could, recruiting for the King's Own.

Though he wished he could take such direct action as his forbearer, Will had not the luxury of the time such a journey would take, so he sent out his call to arms through his messengers, hoping that the words he gave them to say would be enough to convince them to fight, once again, for the land they lived in. And in the mean time, he had to play the game of politics, to induce the council to go along with his edicts and support his war effort with all of the resources at their disposal.

It made him want to scream in irritation. He craved action, not endless hours of talking in circles.

"My friends," Will began, going on to explain his thoughts, as best he could. He sent up a prayer to whatever Gods might be paying attention, praying that they would hear him out and understand the reasoning behind his requests. Perhaps the Gods really did hear him, for the vote was unanimous on the very first casting. The old law, barring women from earning their knighthood, was easily put aside. That had not surprised him. What had surprised him was that they all—even the nobles who complained of her uncertain heritage and background—voted to have Ana join their number as Champion. What Will did not know was that they had all seen her fight in the Trials, and they'd all heard the whispers in the streets of how the small folk thought her the Lioness returned to them. And, though none of the council members mentioned the fact aloud, they had all seen the return of the Champion in their dreams.

~:~

Satisfaction was not something Ana's sensible side had felt in quite a long time. With all of the excitement (and fear) of being suddenly thrust into one new situation after another, not to mention the strain of never quite knowing what the future held, Ana's pragmatic half had never quite settled itself completely. Her frivolous side, the one that actually enjoyed magic and mysterious voices and visions, was exceedingly content to live life by the moment. But there was always that other half waiting in the recesses of her mind, telling her that none of this can _really_ be happening.

Before she had come to Tortall she had not even known that she _had_ a sensible side, yet the nagging of her logical half had been weighing on her more and more heavily recently.

Spending the afternoon with two very practical women had cured Ana's unease considerably.

She had guessed that Karma and Lara would be fast friends, but just how fast she could never have known. The moment they'd entered the Lesser Library Lara pounced on them.

"You!" Lara cried, shaking her finger at Ana. "Why has it taken you so long to get down here? It's been nearly a full day since you've taken your Ordeal; didn't you think I might want to know if you're alive or not?"

Blushing guiltily, Ana opened her mouth to reply, but Lara had already moved on to Karma.

"...and you!," she said. Karma's eyes widened. "Are you the one who all the fuss has been about?"

Karma nodded proudly, her chin held high.

"Good for you." Lara said approvingly. "I might have tried for it myself, but I didn't want to leave the children unattended. The older ones can take care of themselves, but Gods only know what ruckus would ensue if I left the younger chits here all by their lonesome."

Seeing the shocked expression on Karma's face Lara shook her head. "What? You don't think I'm ignorant on matters of war and fighting do you? Do you think I'm just going to sit here if my ox of a husband and ass of a brother are off at war and some Scanran raiding party decides to attack the city?"

After that things had gone smoothly. Karma and Lara had discussed their choice weapons. Lara liked a long spear while Karma preferred a short sword and shield. Their reasons were simple and straightforward, unlike many Ana had heard from the Own's men. Instead of going for style or show Lara and Karma chose their weapons for practical reasons. Lara wasn't as big as most men, but had surprising strength. A spear gave her the reach she needed. Karma was quick, and a short sword would give an advantage over men with bigger, slower broadswords.

The discussion had been broken up when Lara realized that they needed to get ready for the feast which would be held tonight. Lara still had many preparations to make, and Ana and Karma needed naps and a bath.

So Ana found herself making her way back to the Lavender Suites, a content smile lingering on her face. Her rational side was satisfied and could now rest, and she could let her frivolous side take over without worry.

_Good timing too,_ Ana thought, reaching for the doorknob, _soon we will be leaving to face an army of Gods only know what._

Ana moved to open the door and her vision went suddenly blurry. Sighing resignedly, she let the vision take her.

_Alanna looked up, her violet eyes meeting Ana's own. Once more a smile entered her face. "But it was also foretold that a strong king would rise from the fading line and bring Tortall back to its former glory. Your Will is that King." Alanna bent and picked up the purple gem. "This is the Dominion Jewel," she said, "you should give it to Will; he will need it in the coming war."_

The vision faded slowly, then shifted into another familiar face.

_"Give it to him now, lass," _George Cooper said.

Ana found herself staring at the closed door, her hand tightly gripped around the knob. She threw the door open without hesitation and stepped inside.

Her saddlebags were still where she had left them, sprawled unceremoniously against the fireplace. Ana began digging through them, searching for the woolen cloak she had hidden the Jewel in.

Ana's hands scraped against rough material and she pulled the cloak out of the saddlebag. She brought the bundle over to the bed and began hastily unwinding it. Eventually she got the knots figured out and the Dominion Jewel dropped out and rolled happily across her sheets.

It wasn't the only thing that fell out of the cloak.

A small carved box also tumbled across her bed, stopping just short of the edge.

Ana froze. In the excitement of the Trials she had forgotten about the carved box and the cheery housekeeper who had died to give it to her.

Sucking in a shaky breath which, had she been a few years younger, might have been a sob, Ana reached for the little box.

_No,_ she rational half thought suddenly. _It will not do to think of it now. Get the Jewel to Will first._

Nodding as if it had been someone else who had given the advice, Ana reached instead for the Dominion Jewel. She slipped the Jewel in her tunic pocket and looked back at the little box.

"I will deal with you when I get back," she said firmly.

~ ~:~ ~


	48. Gifts and Grimaces

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Can't sleep, so might as well update. That's rational, right? Enjoy :)

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Forty-seven: Gifts and Grimaces

Will stalked around his rooms in the familiar path. His thoughts swirled around and around in his head. Battle plans, strategies, messages from his spies, logistics, cavalry numbers, and worries about the coming weeks created a vortex. Nothing was clear, things kept coming to him in pieces.

_"They blacken the hills for miles around," _one spy had reported.

_"We can't afford to expend any of our magical strength to control the weather, we'll just have to hope for the best,"_ his Head Mage had informed him.

_"Seven hundred in the regular army,"_ Lucas said, _"that includes the Own. We can figure about eight hundred knights and maybe five hundred from the Trials."_

"_The animals know of this threat," _Johonas had told him, _"The horses, the hunting dogs…even the wild-creatures in the forest whisper of the great darkness that gathers in the north. They fear it."_

"_Whispers have come to even our desert lands," _the Voice of the Tribes had said, leaning upon a gnarled staff, as he stood among a dozen of the men from his village, _"That a great evil had awoken again in this world. The spirits whisper that prophecies have been set in motion, and that the Gods walk, once more, between the Realms." _He had paused, and his ageless eyes had held his own for a serious moment. _"They say that the Lioness walks again," _He finished, so quietly that Will almost didn't hear him.

"_The passes are still closed, but spring is coming," _Tohmas had said, _ "If the weather holds, it might be full-on a month before the snows melt enough to allow passage. And even if the weather does turn, the weather seers predict heavy rains this spring, which would soften the soil, and the Scanrans would have to deal with the possibility of washed-out trails, landslides, and lots of mud," _The Tohmas had smiled at him, and patted his shouder with a wrinkled hand. _"Perhaps, if we are very lucky, the mountains and their perfidious paths will delay them a few more days." _

_"They blacken the hills for miles around..."_

"I'm getting dizzy watching you pace like that," Illieno muttered sourly. He leaned casually against the fireplace in Will's study, arms folded across his chest. "I don't understand how running about your rooms helps you concentrate."

Will stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair. The effect made him look wild as well as harried.

"There is so much to do, 'llieno," he sighed. "Tonight we feast and celebrate and in a week we march to war."

"Well we're practically ready," Illieno said evenly. "We only need the week to train in the new recruits from the Trials, else we could move out tomorrow morning, heavy-heads or not."

Will studied his old friend. "You're taking your new responsibilities very lightly."

Illieno smiled, but shook his head. "I still can't believe you appointed me Spymaster. You should have seen the look on father's face when I told him."

A small smile crossed Will's face. "I can imagine."

Illieno shrugged. "Cousin Alli was always better at running the inn than I was. There wasn't much else to inherit, so being _dis_inherited didn't affect me too much."

"I did not mean to cause trouble between your father and yourself," Will said with considerable regret.

"Shut it," Illieno said, "you know Seriou and I never got on. _Your_ father was more of an actual father to me than my own."

Will opened his mouth, but whether to agree or disagree Illieno would never know. A soft knock at the study door interrupted them.

"Come." Will said automatically.

His butler, a traditional man named Jacob, entered.

"Sir," he bowed, "there is a lady named Ana who wishes an audience. I had her wait in the sitting room."

Will only blinked blankly, so Illieno took the initiative.

"Will would most _definitely_ like an audience with Lady Ana, Jacob. If you would see her into the library that will give him time to polish up so he can make a good impression."

Jacob the butler bowed to Illieno and murmured, "So it shall be." Then he bowed again to Will and left swiftly.

Will looked at Illieno with surprise. "How did you know I wanted to see her in the library?"

Illieno snorted. "Because you hate the formal sitting room and avoid it at all costs unless you're pacing."

Will looked thoughtful. Then he turned back to his friend with something like apprehension. "Would you mind staying in here until I know what she wants?" he asked tentatively.

Illieno smiled evilly."Of course," he said, "I wouldn't dream of disturbing your confession of eternal love."

He ducked just in time. Will's fist passed harmlessly over his left shoulder.

~:~

Ana waited somewhat nervously in Will's library. The library was in one of the towers, where the bookshelves that spanned floor to ceiling were as curved as the walls they covered. She stood rather awkwardly in the middle of the circular room, staring around her. A staircase wound slowly upward, leveling off into platforms at regular intervals. Most of them had windows dispersed at the various levels and at the base of the staircase a pair of glass-paned doors lead to a balcony. On the lowest level, to the right of where she stood, were several plush chairs with a little table between them. She looked at the little table, wishing she had the courage to go and try out one of those squashy-looking chairs. She had to admit, it was far better than that horribly stuffy sitting room, but something about the rows upon rows of ancient volumes was very intimidating. The very air felt of age and wisdom.

The butler made her nervous too. He stood stiffly at attention while she glanced anxiously at him out of the corner of her eye.

The Dominion Jewel was a heavy weight in her tunic pocket. She felt that this was perhaps not a very appropriate place for something so important, but she was not wearing a belt pouch and she did not feel like carrying it. She could feel it buzzing through the fabric of her tunic, pulsing a steady beat that kept time with her heartbeat.

"Thank you, Jacob," Will's voice said.

Ana turned her head, just in time to witness the butler bowing deeply to Will. Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The King put his arms behind his back, a curious look on his face as he waited for her to begin.

For a moment, she was struck speechless, unable to do anything but look into those blue, blue eyes. As always, whenever she was in his presence, she wondered what thoughts went on behind those eyes. She wondered if his thoughts often turned to her, the girl he had spirited away into this strange world. She wondered if he knew who she really was, who she had been before he brought here and introduced her to a whole other part of herself, her heritage. She wondered if he knew who she now knew she was, if he'd always known that she truly was a part of the world called Tortall.

Looking into Will's eyes, she had completely forgotten the reason she had come here, distracted by the realization that she had no idea how to say what she really needed to say to him.

When it had been too long and she still said nothing, Will prompted her, "You asked to see me?"

"I..." Ana started, but no other words were forthcoming. Even her thoughts seemed frozen. There was something, some reason…something she had to say, to explain.

"I'm sorry," Ana began once more, "I just need to order my thoughts, I came here perhaps too hastily; I should have stopped to think first."

Will looked even more confused at this, but he was too polite to interrupt her.

"Maybe we should sit," she suggested.

"Of course," Will said quickly, "how rude of me. Please."

He gestured at one of the squishy chairs that graced the room. Ana crossed the room and sat down. The weight of the Dominion Jewel was heavy against her leg, and Ana remembered that she had come here to give him that gift from the Lioness. Will sat down across from her, his back to the balcony, waiting patiently for her to begin her tale.

Ana's mind whirled, searching for a place to start. There was no way to explain how she had acquired the Dominion Jewel without first explaining about the Tomb of the Lioness and the journey there. She had told Lucas about acquiring Lightning, but that had not been the complete story. Not by far.

"Lucas has been rather close-mouthed about your time at Silverlee," Will said, conversationally. "He mentioned in passing that you had disappeared for a day and returned with the sword you carry over your right shoulder. When I asked him where you went, he said it was your story to tell." He paused, then smiled in an encouraging way, "This is what you came to tell me, yes?"

Ana took a deep breath and said, "I met the Lioness."

Will blinked, but his face remained dispassionate. "Tell me how," he said.

And she did. She told him of waking in the middle of the night and wandering through the forest paths until she came to the sea; of the ruined city on the cliffs of the sea, the secret stairs, the dark presence in the tunnel. She did her best to describe the riches that lay beyond and of meeting a goddess. She told Will what the Lioness had told her, and about the gifts the Lioness had given her. She stopped there. There was no need to mention her trip home and the little rune-covered box.

Will did not interrupt her at all except for occasional exclamations of surprise or dismay. She watched his face closely as she talked, searching for clues to his reaction to her tale. The revelation that her father had been the brother of the Lioness—the same Lioness who was spoken of in legend and who had returned, as prophesied, to guide her niece and her country along a twisted path of deed and misdeed that had its roots in a time when legends and demons walked the earth freely and Gods played their games of power with mortals as their pawns; a time that had suddenly come back to haunt Tortall—was greeted with a tightening of his lips and an intense stare that revealed his surprise. She dropped her eyes at that point, ashamed that she had waited so long to tell him of her heritage. The desire to tell him of _all _of her heritage welled up within her, but she hesitated, reluctant to let go of that, her last secret. She reminded herself that it was not relevant to this story, anyway, and, since Will said nothing, she moved on with her tale, though she could not help the blush that stained her cheeks.

But when she finally came to the treasury of Tortall and the Dominion Jewel Will's reaction was more animated. He gasped aloud, his eyes and face startled.

"The Dominion Jewel?" he managed to choke out. Ana took it out of her tunic pocket and set it on the table. The purple stone seemed to pulse with an inner light.

"The Lioness said that you would need it," Ana said simply.

Will put his hand on the pulsing stone. For a moment the stone seemed to pulse even faster, then there was a brilliant flash and it disappeared.

Ana gasped. "Where did it go?"

Will had a glazed look on his face. Then suddenly he started to glow. The light surrounding him was mostly a deep blue, shot with an even darker purple.

Ana moved to touch Will and realized that she was clutching the necklace the Lioness had given her. Somewhat chagrined, Ana let go of the necklace.

The glow around Will disappeared.

Surprised, she took hold of the necklace again. Instantly, the glow reappeared and Ana had a sudden realization. _It shows magic._

Slowly the glow around Will dissipated, fading in little wispy tendrils of bright blue shot through with a rich purple. She watched it go, fascinated. When the last bit of it had disappeared, she looked up and met Will's eyes.

"What happened?" she asked, quietly.

Will shook his head, as if to clear it. "It merged my magic with the magic in the Jewel. Now I have control of the Jewel, and through the Jewel, the very essence of what is Tortall."

Ana stared. "The Dominion Jewel controls the essence of Tortall?"

Will shook his head, like his was trying to clear it. "I thought it was just a legend," he said quietly.

Ana was still absently holding the Lioness's necklace. She glanced up to look out the balcony doors and jumped.

There was a man leaning against the door frame.

She dropped the necklace in shock. Instantly the man disappeared. Thinking she must have been mistaken she slowly put her hand on the red stone again. The man sprang back into her vision. _It shows magic,_ Ana thought.

There was no more room for thought; she was moving before she realized she had consciously made the decision. Her hand that wasn't holding the Lioness's necklace sprang to Naethus's hilt even as she darted across the room. An instant later she was standing with her sword resting casually next to the man's pulsing jugular vein.

Neither Will nor the man had had time to react.

"Is there a _reason_ that you are invisible and standing on the King's balcony, sir?" Ana asked, coldly.

~:~

Will was still thinking about the power he had just received from the Dominion Jewel. He could actually _feel_ the underlying magic in Tortall, feel how he could manipulate it. It was like he had just developed a new sense, a new awareness of the land that was Tortall. But he was wary of the power, for he knew, instinctively, that such manipulations were not good for Tortall; for every action there was an equal and opposite reaction.

He was distracted, so at first he did not register that Ana was no longer sitting across from him, but standing by the balcony doors. Her sword was out and it was, apparently, resting on nothing.

_Nothing?_ Will's thoughts struggled to keep up with what he was seeing. Then it all clicked.

"Illieno you stupid idiot!" he burst out, "Make yourself visible before Ana shortens you by a head."

There was no pop. No shimmer. Illieno simply appeared in front of his eyes, leaning tensely against the door frame with a pained expression on his face.

Ana did not move her sword.

"Ana, please don't kill my new Spymaster." Will said it pleasantly, but Ana heard the underlying order. She took the sword away from Illieno's neck, but she did not relax. She glared at Illieno, a challenge in her amethyst gaze.

"So," Illieno said in what would have been a light tone if he had not been so hoarse. "You have a very pretty sword there, lassie. I've always preferred the crossbow myself, with a nice solid dirk for close encounters. Swords, I think, are best when properly covered. Would you mind?"

Ana raised an eyebrow, but sheathed her sword without hesitating.

"Illieno," Will said, crossing his arms. "You promised to stay in the study."

Illieno shrugged, but the grin he flashed was remorseless. "I'm the Spymaster. Spying on people is what you pay me to do. And besides," he added, turning to look at Ana, "I was curious about the Thaylian everyone's been jabbering about. I thought that you wouldn't notice. No one has ever been able to see me before. How did you do it?"

At his explanation, Ana had relaxed a little. "Another one of the Lioness's gifts," she said, pointing to the necklace. "I had just figured out that it shows magic."

"Apparently it also shows invisible people," Will said dryly.

Abruptly Illieno bowed to Ana, who blinked, astonished. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced, madam," he said elegantly. "I am Illieno Reinhart, son of the great Seriou Reinhart and Spymaster to that son-of-a-stormwing."

Ana couldn't help but smile at his over-done manners. Will's obvious familiarity with Illieno had allowed her to relax, and she decided to play along. She swept a curtsy, even though she had no skirts to sweep with. Then she inclined her head and said, "I am Ana. Just Ana."

Illieno kept his face serious as he grabbed Ana's hand and kissed it with a flourish. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Just Ana," he said.

Will snorted.

"You two make quite a pair," he said, rolling his eyes. "I knew there was a reason I kept you from each other for so long."

"Then this is all your fault," Ana and Illieno said at the same time. They stared at each other in astonishment for a moment, then both burst out laughing.

~:~

Illieno and Ana were fast friends. By the time Ana left to get ready for the Feast of Anointing they were talking as easily as if they had known each other for years. They swapped stories, Illieno telling about his father and the inn, Ana about her transition from world to world.

Will listened with half an ear as he composed a letter he would send to Tohmas on the morrow, asking if the healers were ready to move out or if they needed additional preparations. He was part curious, part relieved, part ashamed, and part grateful when Ana spoke graciously of her "coming here". She did not say that she had been kidnapped, nor that she had been taken unwillingly. And she did not say that she missed her homeland. She spoke of it fondly, and somewhat (he thought) wistfully, but perhaps that was only his mind jumping to conclusions.

She did not, however, speak of family. She mentioned a brother once briefly, but no husband. No children. And she did not mention names. Will wondered whether that was deliberate, or merely a thoughtless coincidence. And, not for the first time, he pondered over who she had been and what station she had held.

Then, all too quickly it seemed, she was saying goodbye. "I will see you at the feast!" she said, smiling at them both.

In that moment Will thought of telling her his plan for this evening, if only just to have her stay a few more seconds. _No,_ he decided firmly. _She will know at the proper time. Now is not that time._

So he said simply, "Yes," and nothing more.

Then she was gone, and the room seemed a lot emptier.

"Well, Will darling," Illieno said, "I can see why you're so fascinated with her. She really _is_ something."

Will stared at the chair she had sat in, his face expressionless.

"Yes," he murmured.

~ ~:~ ~


	49. The Feast of the Annointing

Chapter Forty-eight: The Feast of the Anointing

The great oaken doors creaked open and Will stepped through them, his shoulders thrown back and his steps measured. The weight of the crown of Tortall upon his brow was a heavy reminder of the duties he carried, as king and leader, as he strode down the long aisle that ran the length of the Great Hall.

On either side of him, conversation died out as the people of Tortall stood as one to acknowledge their King. The Great Hall was lined with four long tables, their heavy benches packed with the men—of all the colors and ranks and races that Tortall sheltered within its borders—that had to compete for their knighthood and been successful in that venture. He looked into the faces of these people, who had trained and Trialed and faced the Ordeal of Knighthood in order to be here at this moment, ready to pledge their allegiance to him.

Where his gaze went, the men bent in a bow, their heads inclined as they touched their right hands to their heart.

As he made his way down the aisle, he looked across the expanse of the Great hall, to where the visiting dignitaries and the nobility were seated on a slightly raised platform. They looked back at him from behind the tables draped with their colors, their gazes solemn, proud, haughty and disinterested by turns. He navigated the three steps upward automatically, his legs familiar with the rising aisle.

Then his eyes were drawn forward, to where Ana stood next to Karma, at the last seat on the right hand side. It was the place reserved for the first in the Trials—the 'champion' as they were typically called—the place closest to the dais where the King supped, the place of honor.

She had bathed and changed since he had last seen her, just hours ago, in his library. Her fiery hair had been bound up in a way that still allowed it to spill down over her shoulders, and somebody—probably his sister—had given her new clothes. It was a strange sort of outfit, but it seemed somehow _made _for Ana. Will felt his heart rate accelerate in his chest, and his breath leave his lungs as he took in the shape of her. She stood proudly, her shoulders thrown back and her chin level, in a long cream-colored tunic, trimmed in gold. The bodice was more along the lines of a dress, however, hugging her trim form until it ended in smooth folds just above her knees. The neckline dipped into a shallow v, revealing the large red stone that the Lioness had given her, and sleeves were tight to the elbow, where they fell in satiny folds that cut away to reveal her slim wrists. Dark leggings peeked out beneath the golden hem of the tunic, clinging to her knees before they disappeared beneath the lacing of her soft leather boots. Will wondered what kind of fabric the dress-tunic was made of, for it hugged Ana's curves like a second skin.

He approached the place where she stood with steps that did not hesitate, though his palms broke out into a sweat, and his heart thumped an unsteady rhythm with every stride. Ana was close enough now to see where his gaze fell, but he stared unashamedly at her, relishing in the vision she made.

He tried to take in every detail about her at this moment, so that he could remember it always. Her hair shone in the light of the Great Hall, glinting as it spilled down over her proud shoulders in loose ringlets. He could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose, and the way the torchlight made her eyes sparkle.

She stood so proudly in that place, comfortably, even. He wondered if she would stand as comfortably at his right hand, or if she would be uncomfortable in the position he had slated for her.

He ripped his gaze away from hers, suddenly ashamed that he had not asked her approval before this moment. Perhaps he was wrong, and she would resent him for pushing her into the role of Champion to his people. Perhaps he asked too much of her, she who had already done so much for him and his country.

He did not look at her as he passed, but he could feel her, feel her gaze upon him.

Will turned his face to the highest platform of all, where his closest advisors and ministers stood behind a table where a great feast was arrayed. His feet began the familiar journey up the carpeted stairs that lead to the dais as his gaze swept over the men who reported and counseled, followed his orders and pulled off seemingly impossible feats with their own resourcefulness. Tohmas winked at him as he passed, while his minister of finances sighed as he stared at the rich dishes that filled the table in front of him. Johona nodded, his dog friends watching him intently from where they reclined next to his chair. Sunshine, the beautiful yellow sight hound that was the matriarch of the pack, came to greet him, her tail whipping back and forth enthusiastically. He ran a hand over her smooth head in acknowledgement, scratching at the spot behind her ear. Sunshine thrust her cold, wet nose into his palm for a brief moment, then retreated back to where her sons and brothers kept company beside their mutual friend. He moved down along the table, nodding to familiar faces as he passed, until he came to the end of the table, where Lucas stood across from the empty seat at the right hand of the hulking chair that graced the head of the table. He scowled at the chair as he maneuvered behind it—he'd always hated that bloody, too big chair—to hang Darkfire in his place, beneath the banner that was his own personal insignia, a blue dragon on a black field. Above the table, hung the proud banners of Tortall and of the house of Conté.

Will took his place at the head of the table with his shoulders thrown back and his head held high. The honor guard, of the King's Own, took up their positions against the long wall that ran the breadth of the dais, standing in solemn duty beneath the banners of the people and their King. Silence reigned in the Great Hall as the cooks wheeled out the centerpiece of the feast: a massive boar roasted with apples in its mouth over a long fire. The smell of spices and sweet, juicy meat wafted over him, as the cooks carved him a King's portion and placed it on the gold plate that graced his setting. Will pulled his dagger from his belt, slicing off a hearty mouthful of the steaming pork. He speared the meat on his dagger and lifted it into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed. It was delicious; he could taste the wild flavor of the boar mixed with the spices and sauces the cooks had basted it with. He swallowed and opened his eyes, smiling broadly at the cooks.

A cheer went up, as he gestured for the cooks to serve up the fare. It was traditional for the King to have the first taste of the feast, but now the waiting was over and everybody could settle down to their own meals. Later, after all had eaten, he would speak to them and hear their oaths, but for now they would celebrate the victory they had won. _Lara was right, _Will thought, gazing down the long table to where Lara sat proudly at the other end, conversing easily with her neighbors, in front of her own royal insignia. _We need a reason to celebrate, to feast, for the future is dark and grim, and we are all uncertain whether we will get to celebrate together ever again. Many who are here now will die in the coming war, and we all know it, but we raise our glasses high and smile, because at this moment we are Tortall, whole and hearty. _

Will found a smile hovering about his lips as he looked out at the people amassed in the Great Hall tonight, then he turned his eyes to his plate, and the feast that awaited its place on it.

~:~

Ana leaned back in her seat, putting down her silverware with a regretful sigh. She was full to the bursting, full of the delicious feast which was arrayed around her. The dishes on the table looked barely dented, though they were voraciously attacked by the men who scooped second and third helpings onto their trenchers. Or perhaps it was just that the servants kept refilling them. Even as she watched, a maidservant materialized to fill her cup with more ale.

"Thank you," Ana said, giving the servant a shy smile. The girl bobbed a curtsy, her lips curved in a smile and a blush across her cheeks. "Goddess bless, Lady" she whispered, scurrying away before Ana had a chance to do anything but stare after her.

"The people of Tortall rejoice in your presence this night," Karma said quietly, from next to her. Ana turned to her friend, to find her biting into the delicious-looking cobbler that Ana had been eyeing down the table earlier. Ana noted the happy expression on the other woman's face as she chewed and wondered if she could fit a _few more_ bites into her swollen stomach.

Karma swallowed, then said, "Tonight we celebrate you, for the hope you have revived in our people."

Ana blushed at the reverence in Karma's voice. "The feast is for _all _the new knights, not just me." Ana protested. "Isn't there always a feast like this?"

Karma rolled her eyes, "Yes, there is always a feast, but that wasn't what I was talking about."

Ana decided that Karma was doing too much talking and sadly neglecting that sumptuous dessert on her plate. She grabbed her fork and stole a bit of the cobbler, grinning mischievously at the surprised look on Karma's face. "I don't much care _who _the feast is for," she stated, loftily, "but _I'm _going to enjoy it, even if you aren't." She popped the cobbler into her mouth, savoring the flavors that mingled on her tongue. The sweet berries were cut nicely by the subtle flavor of apple sauce and cinnamon, nutmeg…and a few other spices that Ana couldn't name. She rolled the bite around on her tongue, and she tasted the hearty texture of an unknown grain that had gone into the crumbly topping…

Ana swallowed, sighing as she felt the cobbler drop like lead into her stomach. She imagined she could feel it trying to squeeze its way into the already crowded interior. She looked down at her stomach, sighing again at the sight of the tight, tailored tunic Lara had talked her into wearing, which did nothing to hide the noticeable bulge of her lower abdomen.

Karma giggled at her antics, scooping another bit of the fruity dessert onto her spoon. "Wise words," she said, saluting Ana with the spoon before biting into the cobbler with relish. Ana couldn't help but notice that Karma's breeches didn't look any tighter on her slim frame. She hadn't even let her belt out, though Ana had watched her down three helpings of a particularly memorable casserole.

The room went suddenly quiet around them, as the murmur of conversation and the clank of silverware died away. Ana looked up at the dais, to find Will standing at the tops of the carpeted steps, Darkfire at his side. He did not hold up his hands, did not move or speak as he waited calmly for the last mutters to fade. He looked around at them all for a moment, then his gaze fell on Ana. He held her gaze for a fleeting moment, then looked away.

A smile crept onto his face, and then Will spoke, his words ringing through the hall. "Tonight we celebrate." he began. There were a few, scattered cheers—and the occasional 'hear-hear!'—and many of the men lifted their glasses to the King. Will smiled at them, nodding as he said, with ringing force: "Tonight we celebrate our heritage, as Tortallians."

There were a few more cheers (and a few more toasts), but they quickly died off as Will raised a hand. "Let us raise a toast for the cooks who have procured us with such sumptuous fare this evening, and the servants who have brought it to us and kept our glasses brimming, for tonight we celebrate the bounty of Tortall, its people."

The men exploded into cheers at that request. Serving maids and men were urged to join in the toast, beaming shyly as they were invited to join in the celebration, instead of merely observing it. A few of the shyer maids scampered away, blushing to hear the men cheering them. Somebody dragged the cooks from the kitchen, and they bowed, trying to hide their smiles behind bent heads.

Will stood quietly before them, letting his people his people have their moment of recognition. Ana watched him as he smiled out over the crowd. He was the quiet center of the storm of revelry, the rock that stands strong and steady, waiting patiently for the winds to die and the pounding of the elements to pass.

Even as she watched him the cheers and toasts began to die off, as people looked once again for their King to speak. Will grinned at them, the happiness in their faces reflected in their ruler's fierce smile. "I look out over your faces," the King said, proudly, "and I see what it is to be Tortall. I see all the honor and pride of our ancestors, all of the collective history that brings us together as Tortallians, and which drives us to fight against the evils in this world, and defend our borders against those who would enslave us. Tonight we celebrate you, for you have answered the call of your country in its time of need. We have known war many times in our history. We know what it is to fight for the right to live as we wish, in this land of our ancestors. We have fought before, and we have won. We have always lived in this land, and we always will."

Will's words were drowned by cheers, but he did not seem to mind the interruption. Once again, he waited patiently while his people cheered and drank to the country that they loved.

When he finally continued, the cheers and murmurs died off sharply beneath his ringing voice.

"Tonight, we celebrate what it is to be a knight of Tortall, to obey the laws of chivalry laid down by our fathers of old and to uphold the laws of our country in whatever capacity we find ourselves in. We celebrate the oath that ties us to this land, and the promise of honorable justice to all the people who reside within it, no matter their blood or race or rank.

"Tonight, we celebrate what it is to be of Tortall, and of the greatness that still resides here." Will paused again, as the cheers swelled again to swallow his next words. After a few moments Will simply held up his right hand, and the cheers tapered out again. Will waited until silence reigned, then spoke, his words quiet, but heard by all.

"You have already proven yourselves able in the martial arts, by passing the Trials. You have gone into the Chamber of the Ordeal and come back out again. You have learned all that you need to know and have been judged worthy by those who have come before you. Now it is time to seal that oath."

Will paused, his eyes moving over the four long tables, where the newly minted knights of Tortall stood. He spread his hands out to his sides, palms up. "I leave it to you now. You know the words, the ritual. You have earned the right to take the oath, all you have left is to take it."

A few of the men at the tables started forward in their enthusiasm, but Will twisted his right hand into the air, his palm upraised. The men froze.

"But know this." Will said, his voice quiet, yet heard by every ear in the room, "I will uphold you to your oath of fealty, as will every man who has ever sworn as you will swear. The consequences of violating your oath are well known, for Tortall does not take kindly to traitors. If you truly wish to serve Tortall as knight, then I welcome you to come before me. But come with the knowledge that you will be held to your word."

Silence reigned in the Great Hall as the men absorbed the warning in the King's words. No one moved, as they all stared up at Will, their faces somber.

Ana knew it was her place to be the first to kneel before him. She knew with every fiber of her being, with every instinct, so she stood, making her way up the steps without pause or hesitation.

He watched her climb towards him, his blue eyes inscrutable as he stood straight and tall at the top of the stairs.

Ana climbed until she reached the top of the dais, and took the last few steps until she stood before him. For a moment, their eyes met, and Ana felt a bubble of emotion swell in her breast as she saw the pride in his blue gaze, the pride and satisfaction, evident in the twinkle that lit the sapphire depths.

Then she knelt before him, bending her knees in the kow-tow of a petitioner to her Emperor. She rose up to her knees, her head bent, gathering her strength and her voice. Her words, when they came, were uncertain at first, but she soon relaxed as the words she had rehearsed came flowing back to her.

"I, Ana De Mar, do hereby swear,

That I shall uphold the laws of chivalry with my every action.

I shall not be blinded by prejudice, or unfair in my dealings,

I will listen to all, and judge not hastily.

With the laws of this land as my guidelines and justice as my goal,

I vow to protect the people of Tortall with my wisdom and justice, to do honor to myself and my ancestors by offering up my life and my swords to the service of Tortall."

Ana looked up then, into Will's eyes.

"I offer my swords to you, William of Conte," she said, her words ringing throughout the hall. "If you will take me into your service as knight." She reached behind her with both hands, unsheathing Natheus and Thunder in a smooth movement. She crossed the blades in front of her and offered them up to him, hilt first.

Will reached forward, taking Naethus into his right hand and Thunder into his left. He raised the swords up in front of him for a moment, as if testing their balance, then brought them down simultaneously to tap her lightly on both of her shoulders.

"Ana De Mar, of House Trebond," Will said, his voice bright and clear as he spoke her name, "I accept your oath. Rise and take your swords, as a knight of Tortall."

He took a step back, and flipped the two swords around in his grip, nimbly catching them by the blades. Ana felt her jaw pop open in awe at his easy handling of her very sharp weapons. She rose unsteadily to her feet, but she did not reach to take the swords, because his face said that he had not yet finished.

"You have given your oath," He said quietly, "now Tortall would ask you to employ your swords on behalf of the Crown, the council, and the people of Tortall. We ask you now, to take them as not only knight, but also as Champion of Tortall. For times are dark and uncertain, and Tortall has need of a Champion once again."

Ana looked at Will for a long moment, taking in the way he stood, with his hands gripping her two blades as he offered them to her. He still stood firm and strong, and his arms did not shake with the effort of holding her swords aloft. It was his face that drew her gaze, however, for his usually impassive face was tight with emotion. She could see the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed into two, intensely burning orbs, but she could not guess if it was pain, or fear, or pleasure that animated his features.

She reached out to grip the hilts of Naethus and Thunder, feeling the way they fit perfectly into her palms. "I accept my swords," She said, looking into his eyes, "and the great honor you have bestowed upon me tonight, in allowing me to use them in service to Tortall as knight and Champion in these times of war and worry. I vow to use them with honor and dignity, and to devote my life from this moment on to the sole task of protecting and defending Tortall to the best of my ability." She hesitated, then added, softly, "I am yours to command."

Ana heard the people crowded into the Great Hall burst into cheers, but it was only a noise in the background. Most of her attention and all of her awareness was centered on the place where she and Will stood, their bodies separated only by the steel and crystal of Thunder and Naethus. They stood there frozen in time, sharing the weight of her swords as they stared at each other.

Ana tightened her grip on the swords, taking the weight away from him as she stepped back. Her knees felt suddenly weak and she trembled as she returned them to their sheaths strapped across her back. She felt their familiar weight settling on her shoulders and she dropped into a curtsy, sweeping the hem of her long tunic like she would skirts. Then she straightened, suddenly uncertain what, exactly she was supposed to do now. Will gestured toward the only empty place at the long table which topped the dais, the place across from where Lucas sat, at the left hand of the King's seat.

Ana threw him a grateful smile as she moved past him, making her way across the dais to her new seat amidst the cheers and celebration that went on all around her. Already, a long line of men had formed, men ready to take their oaths of knighthood. They approached the King singly, or in small groups, kneeling before him and offering up their weapons. He did not take their weapons, as he had for Ana, but instead used Darkfire to tap their shoulders as he bid them rise.

~ ~:~ ~


	50. Midnight Dealing

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Ahahahaha! This might possibly have been my favorite chapter...to write. It goes out to all of the Illieno fans out there (I include myself in this category. I have such a character crush on him...Alas, I know that I'm not his type. *sigh*)

On another (not as happy) note, though I'm going to try very hard to be a good girl and update every-other-day...it will have to start next week. The rest of this week is kind of crazy for me and I don't think I'm going to have time/computer access until next Sunday. But I'll leave you with this fun (though somewhat unnecessary) chapter to digest.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Forty-nine: Midnight Dealing

Illieno slipped silent and invisible through the dark streets of Corus. The shadows were alive around him, milling with the unsavory activities of the underbelly of the city. This was the most dangerous part of Corus, where brothels kept company with dingy bars, smoky taverns and opium dens. The streets were littered with piles of garbage and rubbish—one of which would occasionally stir or shiver and resolve into a human form, lying prostrate in the gutter—and the only illumination came from the swathes of light spilling from the windows of buildings and the occasional lantern. He could hear snatches of a bawdy song escaping from the open doorway of one tavern, where a shadowed man reclined against the doorway and smoked a pipe. Prostitutes stood on the porch across the street, exchanging innuendos with a trio of grinning youths. Illieno eyed them as he passed, noting the arrogant stance of the blonde in the middle and the bulge of his purse in his coat pocket. _He is going to lose a few pennies tonight, _Illieno thought. It was stupid to bring such a heavy purse into this part of the city, stupid to dress so finely. It was like painting a target on one's back or walking around throwing gold coins into the air and yelling, "I'm a rich man."

After all, this _was_ where the King of Thieves kept court.

Even as he watched, one of the prostitutes leaned into the blonde man, running her hands boldly over his chest. Distracted, neither the man, nor his friends noticed the other man who resolved from the shadows long enough to cut their purses before melting back into the night.

Illieno passed by them, his footsteps muffled by the laughter of the whores and the music that spilled from the second story of another building. He turned down a side ally, moving silently past a man who was slumped against the wall, his eyes wide and dreaming as he drooled into his long, unkempt beard. He turned another corner, moving deeper into the rabbit's warren that was the Thieves Quarter. Laundry hung limp in the windless night, strung between the close buildings like banners.

Illieno was glad of his invisibility—and his quiet step—when he slipped past the two men who huddled in one dark doorway that opened off the alleyway. One man looked up as he passed, his eyes gleaming in the starlight as he searched the shadows, but there was nothing there to see; Illieno was less substantial than shadow on this moonless night.

He held his breath until he was well past them, however, and even then he tried to keep his breaths quiet as he neared the end of his journey. He knew, without a doubt, that the lounging men were only the visible guard; there were untold others concealed in the shadows of this dark night. Soundlessly, Illieno slipped his favorite dirk from its sheath, biting down on the blade as he climbed atop a convenient barrel and boosted himself unto the narrow window ledge of the first story of the building to his right. The shutters were closed, but he could see light spilling from between the wooden slates. Sending up a prayer to the Trickster that whoever was inside wouldn't suddenly decide to throw open the window, Illieno reached up, stretching to grab the bottom of the balcony that projected from the second floor. He pulled himself up, wincing as his feet scraped against the brick wall, making a sound that seemed loud enough to wake the dead in this empty alley. With a final heave, he pulled himself onto the balcony, grasping the bars of the railing as he rested for a moment. Then he climbed onto the railing and repeated the process, until he stood on the third floor balcony. Illieno frowned as he realized that the doors were thrown open, and that he could hear the movements of people inside the room. Dirk in hand, he crept over to the doorway. A gauzy curtain veiled the interior from his sight, but he didn't dare touch it in case the occupants of the room noticed the movement. So he listened, and, after only a few seconds, decided that the people inside wouldn't notice him; they sounded quite preoccupied with each other and—from the sound of it—would be occupied for some time yet.

Illieno strode back out to the edge of the balcony and doffed his gloves. He drew a long coil of knotted rope from beneath his tunic and twisted one end into a loop that could be tightened by pulling on the longer length of rope. Bracing himself against the railing, Illieno leaned out into the open space between the buildings and began to swing the loop in a slow, careful arc. His target was a small post that jutted out from below the fourth story window of the adjacent building. A bucket of slops hung from the hook, but he knew from experience that it was strong enough to hold his weight as well.

He snagged the hook on his second try, and—moving quickly, but stealthily—he secured the rope to the railing of the balcony where he stood, making sure not to touch the iron railing with his bare hands. He rubbed his hands together swiftly, to get the blood flowing into his fingers and wipe away any sweat that may have accumulated there, then swung himself out into space, until he hung upside down from the line that stretched across the alley. He inched his way upward, using the knots that had been tied at intervals as anchors for his hands and feet.

A burst of gay laughter drifted from the open doors of the balcony, followed by the low murmurs of a masculine voice. Illieno froze—his body hanging in space halfway between the two buildings—as a heavily painted woman emerged from the curtains, closely followed by a man clad only in a loose pair of breeches, his wide chest and the belly that overhung his belt covered in coarse, dark hair. The man was quite obviously drunk, as he stumbled over to where the whore leaned against the balcony railing. He reached for her, his fingers fumbling over the smooth folds of her gaudy dress, but she pushed him away, laughing derisively.

The man lurched back, unbalanced, and Illieno held his breath as the man's hands flew past the place where his rope was tied to the balcony. His fingers grasped the balcony for support, dangerously close to the ties of his tether. "What'cha goin on 'bout?" the man slurred, "Why so coy with ol' Davy, Betsy, me love?"

The woman raised a thin eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Putting up with your bumbling caresses was na part o' the fee we negotiated," Betsy said, her voice light. "S'not my fault you're too sodden with rum to have the fun ye paid me for."

Davy straightened with a sudden rage, "I'll show you, wench!" he cried, staggering toward her. "If you would only stop flitting around so…" he muttered, grabbing for her, but missing by a good foot. Betsy danced away from his groping hands, giggling.

Stifling his own giggles that threatened to slip past the dagger clenched in his teeth, Illieno continued hauling himself up the rope. The drunken Davy had managed to pin Betsy against the railing, but she avoided his sloppy kisses. He didn't seem to mind much, as he buried his face in her hair and neck.

Illieno pulled himself up the last few feet of his rope bridge, until he could grasp the window-ledge with his hands. He balanced carefully on the narrow window ledge, his hand on the sill as he lifted the loop from around the little hook. Davy and Betsy were oblivious to his presence; occupied with lips and hands they didn't notice as he tugged three times on the invisible rope that was tied next to where they embraced. Illieno smiled as he felt the knots loosen themselves and fall away into space. Will had given him this particular rope long ago, in their boyhood. His friend had worked a tricky little enchantment into its coils, so that the knots would hold tight until he asked them to release. Grateful, once again, for Will's ingenious gift, Illieno quickly drew in the length of the rope, reeling it up again before it had a chance to hit the narrow walls of the alley and give him away with a sound.

He tucked the rope back into its place beneath his tunic and donned his gloves again. The lines of laundry that were strung everywhere in this part of the city were conspicuously missing. From his vantage point on the fourth story, Illieno could see the two men who he had passed earlier, smoking fragrant pipes as they lounged in front of a shadowy doorway two buildings down and across the alley. Their manner was casual and unassuming, but their posture spoke of alert watchfulness. There were also other men he couldn't see, probably lingering on the rooftops around him.

Illieno inhaled a deep but quiet breath, mentally preparing himself for the trickiest maneuver of his journey. Then he spread himself against the brick wall of the building, his fingertips seeking out the cracks in the crumbling mortar. He inched his way across the wall, holding himself aloft by the strength in his fingers and the occasional footholds his questing boots found. It was only a short distance to the next window ledge, but it was a dangerous and precarious operation, nonetheless. Thus, Illieno made his way along the building, moving from window ledge to window ledge, until he stood in the frame of the window directly across from the building where the two men kept watch.

His goal was in sight now: the second window from the left on the fifth and final story of the tallest building in this part of the city. The window was shuttered, but Illieno could see the tiny shafts of light filtering through the cracks. That was good; all of this effort would have been for nothing if the man he had come to see was not in tonight.

He paused, for a moment, worried about the two men beneath him. They were more watchful than the usual sort who hovered about his part of town. He could see the men looking up to scan the rooftops, even as they conversed quietly. They were sure to hear him, even if they could not see him, for the window he aimed for was directly above their heads. And even if he managed to get across the alley without alerting them to his presence, they were bound to notice the light when he opened the shutters.

Before Illieno even had the chance to send up a prayer for a distraction, it was unexpectedly granted to him. Three men turned suddenly into the alleyway, laughing and jostling each other as they stumbled drunkenly down the narrow lane. The two men lounging in the door way were suddenly two pillars of stone, their eyes fixed on the revelers.

Illieno smiled with secret satisfaction as he removed a coiled whip from the belt beneath his tunic. The sound of the whip snapping through the air was covered by the loud song that one of the men who approached was bellowing, and the laughter of one of his comrades. The end of the whip wound around the outstretched arm of one of the crumbling gargoyles that squatted atop the building—it might have once have been of a stormwing, but time and the endless hammering of the elements had reduced it to little more than the suggestion of hulking form perching on the edge of the roof like it was the edge of the world.

Illieno heard the men passing beneath him, heard their laughter die off as they noticed the two men lurking in the doorway. One of them broke off from the others, a taller shadow that strode proudly toward the two men, his shoulders thrown back cockily. Illieno saw a glint of tawny hair and recognized the blonde man he'd seen earlier in the night.

The man didn't acknowledge the two men who guarded the way, he strode between them, his eyes on the black door concealed in the alley wall.

His way was suddenly barred by the sinewy arm of the bigger of the two men, who leaned casually in the doorway, his face shadowed as he stared down the blonde man.

"I have business with the King," The blonde said, his voice haughty, "Let me pass." His comrades hung back, their faces a sober contrast to their earlier glee.

The other man leaned against the alley wall, cleaning his fingernails with a vicious-looking dagger. He looked up at the blonde man, frowning. "The King's business is his own, laddie. He's a busy man, he is, doesn't take to being disturbed in his business by some brat-faced noble. If ye wants to see him, there are the proper channels to go through, but he'll see ye on _his_ time, not the versa."

Illieno launched himself into space, pushing off against the building so that his jump took him in the direction he wanted. He arced across the alleyway, his legs thrust out in front of him to cushion his landing. He hit the wall with a thud and a sharp grunt, but the noise was covered by the yell of outrage that burst from the blonde man, and the sound of steel being drawn. Illieno braced himself against the wall and looked down at the scene below him.

The blonde man bristled, a longsword clenched in his right hand. His companions had drawn their steel likewise, and the three of them stared down the men in the doorway, their courage boosted by their superior numbers and drunken confidence. "How dare you insult me, you mangy little piece of gutter scum," the noble hissed, "Let me through, before I decide to take offense to your insolence and teach you how to respect your betters."

Illieno began to walk up the wall, his tired muscles protesting as he climbed hand-over-hand up the invisible whip. The sounds of his boots scraping against the stone were covered by the sounds of the guards laughing at the noble and his cocky friends. He smiled as he heard one of the guards mutter to the other, "Sounds like a lesson in manners is definitely in order," then, louder, "Why don't we settle this like real men, ye little upstart? I'll put down me knife and you put down your shiny little stick and we'll fight it out fist to fist."

The noble's answer was lost to Illieno as he swung himself unto the window ledge of the window directly above them. He left the whip hang where it was, trusting to the dark night and the distraction of a fight to hide it from the men below. Then he slipped on his gloves and positioned himself before the window. The grunts and meaty thuds of the brawl below him drifted up to his ears as he extracted his tools from a hidden pocket of his jerkin. He chose a long piece of thin metal, slipping it between the central crack of the shutters. He groped around for a few moments before he found the latch, then working carefully, he jimmied it upward until he heard it fall open with a soft click. He opened the shutters only a slight bit, positioning his body so that it blocked the light that came through. He looked carefully at the window, and smiled as he saw that it was unlocked. Using a soft cloth saturated with oil, Illieno reached carefully into the space between the open shutters and greased the frame of the window, paying close attention to the seams where the wooden treads met.

Then he exchanged tools and opened one shutter, once again positioning his body so that it blocked most of the light. He reached swiftly through the opening between the shutters, sliding a thin but wide piece of metal into the crack where the window rested against the sill. He levered up on the metal strip, and the window crept slowly upward, aided by its newly greased skids. When there was just enough space to fit his fingers through, Illieno tucked away his tools and positioned himself for his final move, then he slipped his hands beneath the framed glass and opened the window in one, swift movement. He darted through the opening, closing the shutters quickly behind him as he crouched on the sill.

He froze, his eyes focusing on the dagger that hovered in the air, inches from his face. The man who held it was tall and broad, his face scarred and his nose crooked from being broken so many times. He wore the standard trappings of the Theives Quarter, though his breeches and crisp linen shirt were cleaner and of a finer cut than one was used to seeing in these streets. Around his muscled waist hung an armory's worth of weapons, and Illieno could see other daggers subtly strapped all over his body. His small eyes were fixed on the window, their dark brown depths hard and unmoving as he stood tense and poised, like a proud hawk that has spotted his prey in the distance.

"You're very good, whoever you are," the man said quietly, "I can't detect any spells on you at all, though I can _feel _you sneaking into my room. I don't take kindly to unexpected visitors, so you can excuse me for being so rude in my greeting of you. Now show yourself, or I'll make this window into one big burning ball of fire."

Illieno couldn't help the smile that crept unto his face as he promptly made himself visible.

The man glowered at him, his knife still inches from Illieno's wide smile.

"Good evening, Highness," Illieno said brightly, "Thought I'd drop by for a visit. Hope I haven't disturbed you."

"I should have known it was you," the King of Thieves growled. "One of these days I'm gonna wipe that cheeky grin from your impertinent little face. Or mayhap I'll just cut your cheeks like I would a naughty child that steps out of bounds."

Illieno laughed, throwing back his head, uncaring that he left his throat exposed to the Rogue's blade. "You've been threatening to do that since I _was_ a child, and, since you've never made good on half the things you've threatened me with, I'll hazard that you'll forgive me this time as well."

The King withdrew his dagger, crossing his arms as he spat out a short stream of chew; it missed the spittoon balanced next to Illieno on the sill and splashed over the wall to join a spattering of other spills and dark lines of spittle. Then he smiled at Illieno, his eyes twinkling as he exposed teeth stained and rotted from the tobacco. It was a sinister smile, but Illieno knew there was good humor behind it, for he had known Johnny Bones (so named for his fondness for collecting the finger-bones of those who opposed or disobeyed him) since long before he had won the right to call himself King of Thieves.

Here, the King of Tortall was a secondary monarch to this man, the Rogue, who was the true leader of the shadows and back alleys of the capital. The King of Thieves was an ancient position—some said as ancient as the very Kings of Tortall—though a much more precarious one to hold.

The current King of Thieves—and Illieno's old friend and ally—had enjoyed a fairly easy reign over his subjects thus far. He had won the throne five years back, after a successful coup of the previous administration (who had ruled unchallenged for fifteen years and had grown lax in their illusions of security). He was a hard man, Johnny Bones, but a fair one. Defy him once and he'd take your middle finger. Defy him twice and he'd take the other fingers, along with the hands that they were attached to. Any who dared defy Johnny Bones three times would quickly find their skull sitting on the mantle place of the Dancing Dove—the long-time headquarters of the Tortallian underworld—next to the skulls of the former King of Thieves and the others who had challenged the new King.

"To what do I owe your flippant presence, this evening, Illieno?" Johnny Bones growled. "I've got a dozen things that need my attention before this night ends, so don't just stand there grinning.

"I'm calling in a favor you owe me," Illieno said.

The King of Thieves raised a thick eyebrow. "I thought we'd squared up all debts when I agreed to let you use my people to ferret out the traitors among the Crown's spies," He said, his tone light, but with a reproachful edge. "I've freely given you all the information we gleaned from them; you now know more than ever before about when Li Dubyn will be able to move and the numbers you are up against." Johnny Bones frowned darkly, "You've done a lot for me over the years, 'lieno, but square is square. My people have done their part in this battle. We en't warriors."

"Yes, you are." Illieno said, crossing his legs as he sat on the window sill. "You are the best sort of warriors we have, for you have fought all your lives to keep what you have, and now we all must fight, to keep the things we have alive. We need your experience and your courage."

The King of Thieves shook his head, "I can't order my people to march off, hand-in-hand with them they've hidden and dodged from all their lives, to die in a bloody battle. I'd have a rebellion on my hands faster than you can say, 'Mutiny'."

"John," Illieno said seriously, "if you won't do it for me, then do it for Dora."

The Rogue staggered back suddenly, his eyes widening as he stared at Illieno. "Don't you dare bring her into this—" he began angrily, but Illieno cut him off.

"Do you think she will be safe if we lose? Do you think the Scanrans will spare her when they take the city? Do you think she will be safe at the Crown and Sword then? I saved her from the men who had kidnapped her, and I gave her a new life." He leaned toward his old friend, gesturing in his agitation. "You still owe me for that, Johnny, you can't deny it."

The King of Thieves glowered at him, "New life' you may have given her, if that's what ye call changing her name and getting her a position at that hoity-toity establishment of your father's, but I still haven't _forgiven _ye for refusin' to marry the chit."

Illieno raised his eyebrows. "That old argument again?" he cried, laughing. "Johnny, me laddie, you know that Dora was never more than a sister to me, and me a brother to her. She is _happy_ with the cook she married, you know. She has grown into a fine young woman, and put her past behind her." Illieno crossed his arms, meeting the King's gaze with his serious green one. "You promised me—as we stood over your daughter's grave—that I could come to you one day and ask for anything, anything at all."

Johnny Bones shook his head, grimacing, "Don't remind me," he muttered.

Illieno laughed, "Remind you, of what? Of you not being able to haul your ass out of the grave we'd just finished digging and little old me having to track down a ladder so that you could climb out?"

Johnny Bone's poker face broke and he burst into hearty chuckles. "Still can't believe that ruse worked. I had to pretend to be angry and grieving for months, when really I was burstin' from happiness inside. Hated the danger she was always in, hated that what I did put her in danger by association."

He shook his head, then he slumped, defeated. "Alright, 'lieno, you got me. What do you want? What brings you to the Dancing Dove this evening?"

"Ask your people to fight for Tortall," Illieno said, without hesitation. "Don't order them, but put the matter before them and let them decide if they want to be of use to Tortall, as Tortall fights against that which would destroy everything we have come to cherish in this world."

Johnny Bones, looked over at Illieno, his gaze thoughtful. "You know that I'm behind you, but not everyone is so willing to take up arms. The girls will all be mad at me for driving away their business and their lovers."

Illieno looked at him seriously, suddenly unable to summon a smile, even at the thought that the King of Thieves dreaded the reactions of a few Madams and their prostitutes. "They have heard the stories of the Imp as well as I, I think they will understand," he murmured.

Johnny Bones drew his brows together in a worried frown. "I don't like to see you looking so serious, 'lieno. It scares me."

Illieno gave him an ironic look. "Good," he said, his voice hard. "It is time to get scared, for the times ahead look very scary indeed."

"Surely things are not so bad," The King of Thieves protested, "The Imp is only a man, in body, after all. His dark armies are only men as well, disguised and warped by dark magic as they may be. And they say that the Champion has returned, as the prophecies said she would."

Illieno let a small smile creep across his lips. "Yes, Ana is a bright light in the darkness, but she is mortal, and sadly inexperienced, blessed though she may be."

Illieno felt his friend's strong grip on his shoulder. "Tortall will prevail," the grizzled man said, his voice gruff. "I will do as you ask, and put the question to the men that I think will answer ye call to arms."

"Thank you," Illieno said, simply. He nodded at his old friend, then straightened, and made himself invisible.

Johnny Bones sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the place where Illieno had been. "You can leave by the easier routes," he said, "You don't have to go clambering around buildings, you know."

"I know," came Illieno's disembodied voice, from the proximity of the doorway. "It is just too _easy_ to sneak up through the Dove. I wanted to keep you on your toes, make sure you're not turning into a lazy old man."

"You snarky little brat!" Johnny Bones cried, "I'll flay your hide if I can find it." He sprang toward the sound of Illieno's voice, his arms outstretched.

Illieno danced away from his grasping hands, giggling helplessly. He slipped through the door, shutting it in the King's angry face. He heard a thump, which sounded strikingly like the sound of a man hitting the door, and bit his lip to stifle the whoop that threatened to erupt. He edged past the well-muscled man who stared, perplexed, at the doorway, and tip-toed down the hallway. Then he glanced behind him, and found the King of Thieves staring down the hallway at him, his face serious as he stood in the open portal. "Tell yer friend that I'll do my bit, but don't darken my doorstep again for at least 10 years. In fact, I might die a happy man knowing I'll never see your smirking face again!"

"Excuse me, sir?" The guard said, staring incredulously at his King. Johnny Bones frowned at him, "Not you," he said, gesturing at the empty hallway.

Illieno bit his fist to stifle the snicker that bubbled up at the look on the guard's face: he stared at his old friend like he was afraid that the King of Thieves had just gone mad.

He made himself visible briefly, threw Johnny his best sarcastic grin, and then turned and made his invisible way down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by his cloth-bound boots.

The sound of a door slamming widened the smile on his lips as he turned a corner, but his mind was already on the next few days, and the endless list of things that had to be done in that short time, before they rode to war and discovered whether they were to live or die.

~ ~:~ ~


	51. Hurry Up and Wait

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Once again, sorry about the long wait. This procrastination thing is really a horrible vice ;)

And to Becca: No, that was not a typo or mistake. If you are still confused about Ana's sword, I would suggest re-reading Chapter 45: The King of Thieves, especially the part where George talks about the Old Ones.

And to everyone else...Please review! I know it seems like I have a lot of reviews (and I do)...but this is the part of the story where I *really* want feedback, because we are out of the re-writing part and into the new material. We are coming into the home stretch (which means I really have to kick it into gear and churn out the chapters that still need to be written...Why? Why am I such a procrastinator??)

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifty: Hurry Up and Wait

Ana sat on Firedance's back and fidgeted. The air was rife with tension, as the knights of the realm and the King's Own assembled in the courtyard leading to the Palace Way. A flurry of activities bustled on around her, as men ran two and fro on hasty errands and the men readied themselves to ride out.

The past few days had been full of long periods of bored inactivity interspersed with sudden flurries of activity, as the army of Tortall went about its last-minute preparations for their muster to war. She had spent the day after her appointment to knight and Champion seeking out her friends and asking, timidly, if there was anything she could do to help. Both Lucas and Tohmas had waved her away, assuring her that they had everything in hand, and that she should rest and recover from the Knighthood Trials, before hurrying away on their business. Likewise, Lara assured her that she would send a servant for her if she was needed, and bustled away again. Ana did not begrudge her friend for brushing her off, for Lara was perhaps the busiest of them all. With Will chiefly occupied with matters of war, all of his less urgent, but still necessary duties as monarch had fallen to her. Between balancing the needs of the country with keeping her children in line, Lara had enough cares to attend to; Ana couldn't bring herself to tell her friend of her frustration at not being able to be useful. There was no need to burden Lara with her problems on top of those she already carried.

Illieno was nowhere to be found, off doing whatever the spymaster did (despite having known two spymasters, Ana still had no idea what that particular position entailed in terms of daily duties. What _had _Marc been doing when he had disappeared to 'work'? What was Illieno doing? Was he always with Will, or did he slip away, invisible, to carry out Will's most secretive maneuvers?) and Will was inaccessible, as his butler politely informed her, before turning her away.

Everybody in Corus had been busy these past days; the halls of the palace were alive with servants and messengers and knights scurrying about, hauling supplies or baskets of laundry. Wherever she went she saw the signs of the muster, and, just in case she might have forgotten the war that loomed on the horizon, she had only to look out her window, at the hills beyond Corus, to where a great tent-city had sprung up.

Everyone in Corus was busy being useful for the cause, everyone except Ana.

Secretly, Ana resented the fact that her friends brushed away her requests to help. She resented the fact that they were so busy, too busy to even fill her in on what was going on.

She might have spent the entire time holed up in her room, brooding, if it hadn't been for Karma. Karma found her wasting away in her room in the afternoon of the second day after the feast of the anointing. She had crossed her arms at Ana, and asked bluntly if she wanted to spar, to keep in shape.

Ana had leapt up, grinning at the prospect of a diversion to wile away the hours. She was grateful that Karma had suggested something so physical, for a duel was exactly what she needed. She felt wound up, edgy. Sparring would be an excellent outlet for the restlessness that plagued her.

After that, the days had seemed to fly by. Ana spent most of it in Karma's companionable company. She was happy that Karma had sought out her friendship, for they shared many pleasures, though their personalities and upbringings were so very different. They sparred in the empty practice arenas and practiced in the deserted training grounds. Karma hurled a pair of hatchets at a dummy of a man, while Ana worked on her horseback archery, galloping Firedance past the circular targets that hung on tall poles. It was a tricky maneuver, for she had to take into account the movement of the horse and keep a steady seat even as she bent her bow to fire. Ana went through two quarrels of arrows before she finally learned the knack of tracking the approaching targets before she loosed her shots.

Sometimes, they would explore the abandoned parts of the palace, and Karma would tell her of her childhood, growing up as she had, among seven brothers. She was generally shy and quiet, but prompted by Ana's eager questions, she would morph into a sly and witty storyteller, as she related the pranks and mischief she had wreaked with her brothers. She brought the tales to life, expounding upon the ever shifting alliances between the siblings and the escapades they embarked on, relating solemn pacts and promises and the thrill of running through a field, howling like wolves, as her three eldest brothers cowered beside a campfire, convinced by her brother Gregory's tricky illusion that she and he were werewolves, prowling through the woods on the night of the full moon.

The more Ana got to know Karma, the more she wondered at her, for she was certainly an exceptional person. She spoke fondly of her brothers, and even tolerantly of her father, who had scorned and opposed her wishes to become a knight as her elder brothers had. She was always composed, and surprisingly shy for someone who had won her right to carry a shield by blackmailing her brothers into teaching her how to fight.

Ana cherished Karma's friendship most, however, because in Karma she'd found another woman who felt the same drive to _fight_. It was comforting, to know that she was not the only woman in a world of men. With Karma, she felt free to gripe about the way she'd been feeling recently—for Karma understood well the ways men controlled the world. She too, had struggled to prove herself worthy to fight along side the men of Tortall—and been victorious in that venture.

If there was one flaw in her relationship with Karma, it was that she treated Ana with an annoying amount of deference. Ana failed to see how she could be so very impressed by what Ana had done—after all, in many ways Karma had had a much harder time in obtaining her knighthood. Ana felt like she had just sort of fallen into her new role as Champion and lady-knight, whereas Karma had to fight every step of the way.

So she was torn between annoyance and embarrassment when Karma stated her wish to serve her as sworn sword.

"It was a tradition long-ago," Karma told her, as she knelt before a red-faced and flustered Ana, her sword uplifted and her face solemn, "when Alanna the Lioness was still Champion, that a knight might offer up his or her sword in service of—not only the King—but also an individual, or noble house." Then she had smiled, and her eyes twinkled with wry humor as she said. "Since we are in the habit of bringing back old traditions—for in you a Champion has returned—I would offer up my sword and shield to you, to serve and protect you as you serve and protect Tortall."

Ana had stammered her assent, but when she pulled Karma to her feet her voice did not quaver as she said, "Let it be a mutual promise, for as Lady-knights we must look out for and protect each other."

One day, as they sat relaxing under the mild spring sunshine Karma related another secret, which only served to impress Ana more with her new friend's competence. Karma was Gifted, as were her brothers and both her parents. Karma told Ana that the Gift had run strong in her family's blood for many generations, and that, at the first sign of the emergence of a Gift, they were trained in how to harness their power. Most of her brothers had the traditional kind of Gift, though they varied in their abilities and strengths. Her brother Isaac, the second-oldest, was a weather-caster, and Timothy, the fifth boy, was a particularly talented healer. Karma's Gift was different than any of theirs. She could only use magic in a limited way, to cast illusions. But like her mother, she was also a Seer.

"You can see the future?" Ana whispered, when Karma explained what it meant to have the Sight.

Karma frowned, looking down at her hands. "I can See my future most clearly, and occasionally I can See the possible futures of those around me. But the Sight is an uncertain and tricky tool of divination, for the future is constantly changing, as people's decisions and actions change its progression. Yes, I do sometimes See the future as it happens, but more frequently my visions are incomprehensible or so brief that I only glimpse a fleeting image. Very occasionally, I have been able to change a future I have seen with my own actions. But often I dare not interpret the futures I See, for they show things beyond my understanding."

Ana stared at her friend, wondering what Karma's Sight had shown her of the future. "Do you know what the future holds for Tortall?" Ana asked, fearing the answer.

Karma was still staring at her hands, "The future is very tangled and hard to make out," Karma whispered, "I catch glimpses of many different scenes, some which terrify me with their foreshadowing, and others which wake a terrible hope within me."

She looked up suddenly at Ana, her brown eyes haunted. "I do not know how to make the good futures come to pass and the bad to disappear. I do not know, for the way hinges on choices that are not mine to make. There are many forces in play, each struggling to make their vision of the future into reality, and each influencing the outcome."

"But there is cause for hope." Ana had said, putting her hand on Karma's shoulder. "You said you can see the possibility of a good future…that's cause enough for me. Do not beat yourself up because there are things beyond your control—just because you can See the future doesn't mean you are responsible for making it come to pass. We all do our part in creating history; it is not your burden to bear alone."

Karma had nodded and smiled, but her face had remained troubled.

After that conversation, neither Karma nor Ana mentioned the future, by silent agreement. They passed the time together, training or talking, but never about what the next days and weeks may hold.

This morning she had risen before sunrise, to pace around her rooms until the servant came for her, with the summons that she had waited five days for. She made her way to the Palace Way on autopilot, waving away the servant's offer to escort her, with Naethus and Thunder (along with her bow and quiver) strapped to her back and her saddle-bags thrown over her shoulders. She felt a little like a pack-horse as she shifted the bags to a more comfortable position and navigated down a long staircase.

She ran into Illieno at the bottom, nearly bowling him over as he came striding out of nowhere. Ana swerved to avoid him, and her feet shot out from underneath her as her weapons and the heavy saddle bags overbalanced her. She skidded down the last two steps, landing heavily on her backside.

Ana moaned. It felt like she'd just shattered her tailbone_._ Waves of pain radiated upward from the point of her backside, traveling up her spine. She sat, her feet splayed out, for a few seconds, catching her breath.

Illieno stood two feet away, bent-double with laughter. She looked up at him, scowling darkly.

"It's rude to just pop out of nowhere, you know." Ana said, crossing her arms, "And rude to laugh while I sit here, bruised and broken on the floor. The least you could do is offer me a hand up,"

Still chuckling, Illieno pulled her to her feet. She winced as she straightened her spine; yes, she had _definitely _bruised her tailbone. She grimaced; riding was going to be torture.

"You must be headed to the party out on the front lawn," Illieno said, reaching down to pick up her fallen saddle-bags. "Everybody is running around like dead chickens at the moment, but I hear that later we get to go for a ride across the countryside."

He gestured with his empty hand, "I'll be your escort, this morn, for I was just on me way there, meself."

Ana summoned a smile, though she wasn't so sure of her success. Illieno put a hand on her arm, his face worried. "Are you okay? You took quite a spill."

Ana shook her head. "I am fine, though I think this will be a truly masterful bruise to add to my collection." She rubbed her backside, gingerly touching her tailbone; it was tender, but still whole.

"Maybe you should ask Tohmas for a spell?" Illieno suggested, "I'm sure he could fix you right up."

Ana sighed, but then shook her head again. "No, I can do the magic myself. Tohmas already has enough to do without having to heal my clumsy bruises. But I am troubled, troubled because of the long ride ahead and the battle at its end…and because I cannot help but feel like it is an ill omen, to begin this day with such a 'spill'."

Illieno shook his head, "I know how you feel," he said, "These past few days I've felt like there is a great shadow looming over the land like the gathering of storm clouds. There is tension in the air, it is so charged that I can almost feel it, like you can feel the crackle of electricity in a thunderstorm. It makes me jumpy, makes me paranoid." Illieno raised an eyebrow at her. "Still gotta carry on, though, too much to do to spend much time dawdling these days. And while we're at it, might as enjoy a comic sight or two."

Ana stared at him, for he had just described her own feelings recently. The only reliable balm for the restlessness she felt was action, and there was going to be plenty of that in the coming days. She was glad to be moving out, to be finally _doing_ something, even though she dreaded the confrontation they would ride toward.

She adjusted the way Naethus and Thunder fell across her back, and nodded at him. "Shall we?" she said.

Illieno flashed her a grin, and turned in the direction of the parade grounds. She kept pace with him, though her back still ached. They made their way through the Palace, out through the main entry and down the long steps to where a boy held Firedance's reigns amidst a gaggle of other horses and people. Firedance greeted her with a fond head-butt and a soft whinny. Ana patted her nose, murmuring greetings in her ear. Then she tossed the boy a coin, and proceeded to double-check the tightening of the girths and strap on the saddlebags until they hung easily over Firedance's back. She didn't doubt that the stable-hands had done a good job in grooming or saddling her, but she went over her carefully nonetheless, for the contact was soothing for both of them.

Next to her, Illieno was stroking the nose of his horse, a great bay stallion with a proud, arched neck and a mane and tale of glistening black hair.

He mounted smoothly, settling into the stirrups as he squinted up at the sky. "Looks like the beginnings of a beautiful day," he noted. He glanced at her, winking. "If the weather doesn't turn, I might get a good start on my summer tan."

Ana scowled at the glorious sunrise, wrinkling her nose as she bemoaned her own skin, pale once again from the darker winter months. "Great," she muttered, "Bruised and _sunburnt. _This is going to be a great trip."

Illieno chuckled, then said, "Perhaps we could just toss you in the back of one of the supply wagons, and you can hide under a blanket while the rest of us enjoy a pleasant ride."

Ana snorted, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. She had to look a long way. His stallion was eighteen hands at the very least, and Illieno was just generally too tall anyway. Next to her, Firedance turned her head around, flicking her ears as she echoed her mistress's snort.

"Firedance would be mighty put out if I denied us a chance to ride together this day," she said, stroking her mare's face for a moment, before she moved down her soft flank. She swung herself into the saddle, gingerly lowering herself down. _The pain isn't so bad, _she thought. She avoided thinking about the bouncing around in the saddle that was to come. "I'll just have to avoid trotting," she murmured.

Illieno must have caught her quiet words, for he burst into laughter. She glared at him, turning Firedance toward where he sat on his stallion's back, so she could get a better angle. Firedance greeted Illieno's steed with a proud toss of her head and a few prancing steps. Ana gritted her teeth as she felt the jarring pain lance through her backside. She reigned in Firedance a little more sharply than necessary, and Firedance froze, her muscles suddenly still as she realized her mistress's distress. She turned her head to look at her with a solemn mahogany eye that conveyed her apology.

Ana reached across to stroke her neck. "Don't worry girl," she said, "I'm just a little tender at the moment, so go easy on me today."

Firedance turned her head forward again, standing still and calm beneath her.

Illieno was still chuckling. "I'm so glad that you enjoy my misery," She muttered.

"I didn't know Illieno to be a sadistic sort of man," said a voice. Ana turned to find Tohmas standing a few feet away, a messenger bag that bulged with its mysterious contents hanging over his shoulder. He looked between them, curiously, then focused on Ana. "Why are you miserable this day, Ana?" He asked, his wrinkles creasing in worry.

Ana blushed, ashamed to admit her clumsiness. "Ana fell down the stairs," Illieno supplied, his voice tinged with his amusement. "I think she might have bruised her tailbone."

Ana threw him a glare, muttering, "Thanks, Illieno."

"Anytime, sunshine," Illieno replied, grinning.

Tohmas's frown deepened as he said, "That's a painful injury." He walked up to her, laying a hand on her leg. She felt the cooling fire of his Gift flow through her backside, sweeping away the throbbing pain with its healing touch. Ana also felt the lingering scrapes and aches from the Knighthood Trials disappear, and her weariness evaporate. She smiled her thanks at her teacher, grateful. She knew she should have healed her injury right away, but… _I'm just not very good at healing, _Ana thought. _It always tires me more than anything else I use my Gift for._

"Stairs can be tricky," Tohmas said, smiling kindly at her as he patted her leg. "I would suggest taking them one step at a time."

Then he took a step back, rummaging through his bag, as he muttered, "Somewhere in this mess I've got a balm for your skin. Ah—ha!" Tohmas pulled a small flask from his bag, untangling it from a skein of what looked suspiciously like knitting yarn. He handed it to Ana, smiling as he said, "Rub this into your skin twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. I remembered how your skin burns in the sun, so I made sure to grab this tonic, for the next few days look to be very sunny indeed."

Ana felt her blush deepen, ashamed and embarrassed that she had doubted her friends these past days. She smiled gratefully at Tohmas, and even managed to suppress the urge to roll her eyes as Illieno snorted with laughter.

Together, the three of them (plus Firedance and Illieno's steed) made their way across the courtyard to where the knights of the realm were assembled. Tohmas left them there, making his way through the ranks of men to where his own gray mare stood, saddled and ready.

Ana shifted in the saddle, happy that her butt no longer ached. She looked around for a moment, at the glittering ranks of knights and the King's Own arrayed beyond the place where she and Illieno sat upon their mounts. Men talked quietly amongst themselves, and a few stragglers hurried to join their ranks. There was a general air of expectation surrounding the murmurs and movements. Ana could almost feel it: a palpable tension.

"So…what happens now?" Ana asked Illieno.

"We are waiting for Will," Illieno said.

"Shouldn't you be with him?" Ana asked, "Aren't you his personal guard?"

Illieno shrugged. "I can only take so many long, boring and ultimately pointless meetings before I snap and start frothing at the mouth," he said. "He's got Lucas with him, so I feel no guilt in skipping out on a few of those torture sessions."

Ana grinned at him, but her reply was lost as she spotted Will approaching from across the courtyard. Lucas strode at his side, along with several men in long, flowing robes of brightly colored fabric. Their faces were dark—nearly as dark as the lower castes of the Thaylian Empire: the colonials and emigrants, servants and slaves—though they held their heads high and proud, and moved with the easy grace of men accustomed to fighting.

Ana watched the group converge with their horses, as several groomsmen led their mounts forward. Most of the men mounted in the usual manner, but Ana's eye was caught by one man in particular, who vaulted into his saddle with an easy leap.

Will reigned Darkness around, trotting him up to where Ana and Illieno sat waiting, at the head of the King's Own. He took his place before them and Lucas and Fleetfoot followed close behind, moving into the place at his left shoulder. Behind Lucas was his banner man, a grim-faced member of the King's Own, as well as the King's bannerman, who held aloft Will's crest so that it waved proudly in the friendly spring breeze. Will gestured Ana forward, and she automatically trotted Firedance into the place he indicated, at his right hand.

She was surprised to find her own bannerman waiting for her there, with a flag that showed a golden lioness rampart rearing before three red towers—the crest of the Thaylian Empire—on a field of white, bordered by red and gold threads that wove a geometric pattern around the edges.

She gave Will a shy smile as she pulled up Firedance next to him, embarrassed but pleased that he had provided a coat of arms for her. He nodded to her, his lips lifting in a brief smile of acknowledgement, before he turned his face resolutely to the open gates that led to the Palace Way.

Darkness surged forward, with Firedance and Fleetfoot close on his heels. Ana could sense, rather than see, the three bannermen and the King's Own that followed behind as they made their way through the Palace grounds and into the city.

The way was lined with people, who watched the procession with solemn eyes. The crowds were mostly made of up women and children, as well as the elderly and the invalid. Some of the younger girls threw spring flowers beneath their horses' hooves, and others waved handkerchiefs, but most of them simply watched them pass with anxious faces, though they all bowed as the King rode by. One woman stood out in particular as they passed, a wrinkled old crone who held a crooked staff in one gnarled hand and a sprig of lavender in the other. She caught Ana's eye with her own, and Ana was startled to see that her eyes were white and faded with blindness.

Ana stared at her as she passed, and saw her lips move as she held the lavender aloft. And though she was too far away, she heard the woman's words as if she were standing next to her, her voice rasping as it grated out a familiar tune,

_Hush now little one, please don't cry._

_I go to war, but not to die. _

_Hush now little one, fear not the night,_

_The Lioness will watch over you tonight._

Ana blinked back her sudden tears, bowing her head to the woman. Ana heard a sly little cackle in her mind, and the woman grinned at her, winking, before she was swallowed into the crowd. Ana turned her face forward again, a small smile hovering about her lips as she rode through the streets of Corus at the right hand of the King with her banner streaming behind her and the morning sunlight warm on her cheeks.

~ ~:~ ~


	52. Revelations by Firelight

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Writer's block sucks. It sucks stinky, chunky monkey balls and then some.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifty-one: Revelations in Firelight

Karma stared across the fire at where Ana sat, her head bent over her saddle as she stitched a careful seam. Lucas crouched next to her, stirring the stew as he told the stories of Kit, the dragon-let that Diane the Wildmage had raised after her mother's tragic death. Ana was always asking to hear the legends and folktales of Tortall. When they were alone, Ana often pumped her for information about what it had been like to grow up in Tortall and of the stories she had been weaned on.

Karma couldn't help but smile as she saw the frustrated look that stole across Ana's face. Her friend sighed loudly, then promptly began to rip out the seam she'd just finished sewing. Ana was such an extraordinary person; Karma couldn't help but be awed by her, even as she was drawn to seek out her company. She was so happy—so glad—that this woman had come to Tortall in its time of need, come to unite them again under the banner of their collective heritage. She was proud, proud to serve as protectress and sworn sword of the Champion of Tortall come again; proud that Ana was the woman that she was, to have become a Lady-knight of Tortall and lived up to the great expectations that her features foreshadowed.

She would be proud to ride next to her against the terrible foe that threatened the country they both cherished.

Karma dropped her eyes from Ana's face, looking at her hands which rested so innocently in her lap. She saw the choices she would soon have to make etched into her skin, beneath the calluses that crossed her palms. She saw two very different futures in those lines. But no matter which way she looked, the end was still the same for her.

She looked up suddenly, her eyes searching the shadows as she became aware of another presence, and the King of Tortall stepped into the firelight, materializing from the darkness beyond. She could feel the aura he gave off, feel the power of his Gift—as any mage could—and the authority and dignity that were spoken of in his calm movements and composed features.

She could also sense Will on a different level, as her King. Like many who were of the old blood of Tortall, Karma could sense the presence of her ruler. When he was distant, the sensation was merely a general directional cast, but when he was closer to her, as he often was these days, she could feel his proximity hovering in her awareness. Sometimes, if he came upon her suddenly, she felt a little overwhelmed by the feeling; it made her Sight go all funny, for Will's future was so tangled and twisted that it hung over him like a shadowy cape.

Knowing that the King was near also made her hyper-aware of her appearance. The King of Tortall was always so very disposed and fastidious, she constantly worried about how clean her hair was and how she smelled whenever she could feel him near. She knew it was silly to compare herself to the King…but Karma couldn't help but yearn to be as composed as he.

Karma caught herself fingering the long braid that hung down over her shoulder and deliberately lowered her hands onto her lap again.

She watched as Will sank, cross-legged, to the ground. Lucas handed Ana a bowl of steaming stew and she passed it along to Will, who accepted it with a silent nod. She set aside her saddle and accepted the second bowl and spoon from Lucas. Then she made her way around the fire to where Karma sat, and offered it to her, with a smile. "Eat up," Ana said, "Smells like Lucas has outdone himself, tonight."

Karma accepted the steaming stew gratefully. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Why don't you come closer to the fire?" Ana asked, "You can hear better over there, Lucas says he's just getting to the good parts."

"You go ahead," Karma said, "the night is warm and that is fire _hot. _I like it better back here, away from the smoke where I can feel the evening breeze."

Ana grinned down at her. "The weather has been fine these past two days. It's made for good riding."

"The Gods have aided our journey, sending us warm days and swift speed to our mounts."

Ana raised an eyebrow at Karma's quiet statement, but her eyes took on a distant cast. "Perhaps you're right," she whispered. Then she shook her head and smiled down at Karma once again. Karma felt a lump rising in her throat as Ana said, "The Lioness _is_ watching over all of us tonight." Her voice was full of firm conviction, full of hope and promise.

"You should eat your stew before it grows cold," Ana continued, gesturing at the bowl in her lap. "It would be such a shame to waste a good meal when the Gods only know what the morrow will bring." An ironic smile twisted her lips, and Karma felt a similar grin spread across her own face. She nodded, taking an obedient bite of the stew. She swallowed thickly and smiled again, as the delicious flavors lingered on her tongue. Ana winked at her, then turned back to where Will and Lucas sat quietly conversing on the other side of the fire. She accepted her own bowl from Lucas and plopped down between the two men, already demanding another story.

"Let me eat!" Lucas cried, waving the stirring spoon at her, "I've not had a chance to take a breath, with all your impertinent questions about every little detail."

Ana stuck her tongue out at him, then slid hastily away from him as he swatted at her, brandishing the wooden spoon like a sword. She giggled as she hovered just out of his reach, and took a bite of the stew. She closed her eyes as she chewed, her face the picture of exaggerated enjoyment. "It's a delicious fare," she mumbled, around her mouthful. It came out sounding like, "Impha ellissuff fargh."

Lucas sighed, loudly. "Well, at least when her mouth is full she can't ask any questions," he said, in an always-look-on-the-bright side manner.

"Maybe you should start feeding her up," suggested another voice, seemingly from nowhere.

Lucas jumped, nearly dropping the spoon, and then scowled darkly as he peered in the direction the voice had come from. "Illieno, you idiot! You know I hate it when you sneak up like that."

Karma heard a snort come from the empty air next to Lucas, then she was suddenly looking at a tall, slender man of sinuous grace. He was dressed in dark colors, in breeches and a leather jerkin that fitted his fit body like a glove. His sandy hair was cropped close to his head, and his bright green eyes twinkled as he laughed. Karma blinked, repressing the urge to rub her eyes, as she stared at him. He was familiar in an uncanny way, and she wondered where she'd seen him before.

Ana had settled back down between Lucas and King. "Sneaking is what Illieno is best at," she said, throwing the named man a cheeky grin. "It's only when he stops sneaking and scheming and starts moving openly that I'll _really_ start to worry."

Illieno bowed to her, winking. "The lass speaks true!" he cried, grinning as he accepted a bowl from Lucas. "It's me job the sneak and slither like a snake through the grass, unnoticed until I rear my head up for the bite." He scooped a spoonful of the stew from the bowl as he spoke, wiggling it illustratively towards his mouth. On the final word of his metaphor, he bit down on the spoon, chewing suggestively.

Lucas roared with laughter at his antics, slapping his knee as he guffawed. Ana was giggling helplessly, her eyes sparkling like gemstones as she laughed. Even the King had a smile on his face.

Karma felt her own laughter die off as she saw the King turn to look at Ana's laugher. For a moment, his gaze softened as he looked at her red-haired friend, and Karma saw all the secrets of his heart written there. She looked back at Ana, beautiful, wonderful, Ana, as she laughed among her friends. She watched as Ana's eyes turned to Will, and a blush stained her cheeks as she caught him staring at her.

Karma looked at them—the King and his Champion—and suddenly saw all the uncertainty and insecurity that stood between them, even as they both dropped their eyes and looked elsewhere.

She watched Ana—as she smiled a shy little smile at her bowl of stew—and knew that she'd already made her choice. She clenched her right fist closed, her eyes locked on her King as he stole glances at his Champion between bites of stew.

"Does she know?" A quiet voice said, from next to her. Karma jumped, startled to find the sandy-haired man sitting next to her on the ground. She looked away from his green eyes, embarrassed that he'd snuck up on her.

"What?" She asked, bewildered.

Illieno nodded in the direction of Ana and the others. "Does she know how you feel about her?"

Karma's brow drew together, and she scowled at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, but she kept her voice low, like his, in a whisper.

"I've been watching you, little lady-knight," Illieno said, conversationally, "I've seen the way you look at her."

Karma stared at him—at this man she was certain she had never met in her life—and felt a twinge of fear clench in her belly. No, he could not have guessed her secret. Only her brother knew, and he was sworn to never tell a soul—a pact she trusted him to uphold.

But Illieno's eyes were knowing, empathizing, as he looked at her. He couldn't know…could he?

And then she suddenly knew where she had seen him before, why his green eyes were so familiar.

She'd seen him in the future.

Karma swallowed thickly, her fear and uncertainty choking her. "I don't know what you are talking about." She whispered.

"Hmm," Illieno said. He looked at her intently for a moment, then squinted across the fire. "My apologies…I thought you would. I thought that you, too, looked like you just might know what it is like to—well, never mind, you obviously don't know what I'm talking about."

Her heart was pounding, beating out a heavy rhythm in her chest. "To what?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I might know what it is like to what?"

Illieno was staring across the fire, his gaze intense. She followed his gaze to where Ana sat next to the King, quietly eating her stew as Lucas regaled them with a tale of Tortall. Every once in a while, the King would interject, to clarify a point or add a detail, but for the most part he just listened, his eyes fixed on Ana's face as she absorbed the story.

Karma looked back at Illieno, to find him looking at her.

"To love where you are forbidden to love," he whispered.

Karma froze, meeting Illieno's emerald gaze for a long moment. Understanding seemed to flow between them, and Karma felt a great weight suddenly lift from her shoulders. She felt light, free, for the first time since she had first realized that she was different from other girls. For a moment, as she looked into Illieno's knowing eyes, she felt unburdened by fate and destiny.

Then she turned to look at Ana again, studying her face. She felt the return of her fear, but her doubt had vanished, replaced by the certainty that she'd made the right choice. She could not save herself, but perhaps, just perhaps, she could preserve a happy future for her friend.

"She doesn't know." Karma said quietly. "She will never know."

"She might guess, you know," Illieno said, "She's a pretty smart little cookie."

Karma stared at him, horrified at the prospect. Illieno took one look at her face and burst into laughter, shaking his head as he giggled. "Would it really be so terrible to have her know?" he asked, as Karma continued to stare at him in stony silence.

"Yes," Karma said finally, looking away from him. Her gaze crept of its own accord to her hands. "It might change how she acts toward me. I cherish her friendship, I would not want to lose it."

"What makes you think that Ana wouldn't still be your friend?"Illieno protested. "You two are practically inseparable these days, I can't see that going away."

Karma looked up at Illieno, her gaze sharp. "What business is it of yours anyway?" She snapped, "It is my life, my decision to make, not yours."

Illieno held up his hands like he was warding off a blow. "Hey, now," he said, lightly, "don't get all offended on me. I was just offering my assessment of the situation. I know what it's like to carry around secrets, and I know that it helps when there are others to share them with."

Karma's right fist clenched tight in her lap. "She must never know," she said quietly. "I have seen what happens if she knows, and it is not a pleasant future for anyone involved."

"You're a Seer," Illieno murmured.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes fixed on Ana. She expected Illieno to press her with more questions, as those who learned of her power usually did, and so was surprised when he left it at that. She turned to look at him, and found his eyes on her, those green eyes brimming over with pity. But the questions that stared out from behind his eyes were too much for her. She dropped her gaze, once more, to her hands, and contemplated the definition of destiny.

~:~

Ana looked regretfully at her empty stew bowl, wondering if she dared interrupt Lucas's tale by asking for a third helping. Lucas was sometimes sensitive about being disrupted during his storytelling, claiming that it ruined his 'flow'. He was as proud of his oratory skills as he was of his cooking and, though he boasted, he _was_ a great hand at both. But Ana knew his weakness, for Lucas was very susceptible to flattery.

"Lucas," she began, but before the word had left her tongue all thoughts of more dinner were driven from her mind as a man entered the firelight and bowed to them. He was dressed like a scout, and his face was serious as he turned to the King.

"A group of forty or so men was spotted approaching the army a half-hour ago," the scout reported, "We detained them outside our perimeter, and they surrendered their weapons peacefully. The leader said that they had come to join in our fight. He says they hail from a village on the other side of the Drell, and that he has information for the King."

"What was your measure of these men, Isaiah?" Will asked, "Should I have cause to worry that one of them might try to stick a dagger in my back?"

"They had an honest enough look about them, Highness." Isaiah replied, "They look more like farmers than warriors."

"Karma," Will said. Karma looked up from where she sat, her brown eyes curious. "Yes, Highness?" she said.

"Will you go with Isaiah and bring the leader of these villagers to join us in my tent?" He asked. Karma inclined her head, rising to her feet. "Isaiah," Will said, turning back to the scout, "Show Karma to this man and return to your post. We will send further instructions after we have treated with him, but, for now, invite these villagers to join in your evening meal. But keep a hand to your swords, for it would not do to forgo caution with those whose intentions we do not know."

Isaiah nodded sharply, bowed, then he and Karma melted into the darkness.

"Illieno, you know what to do." Will said and, though Illieno was no where to be seen, they heard his voice come from the other side of the fire, "Don't I always?"

Lucas looked over at Will. "Do you think we have cause to fear treachery?"

Will shrugged. "We shall treat them with courtesy and caution until we know what they want." He stood, setting aside his empty bowl. "Let us go find out what that may be," he said, nodding to Ana and Lucas.

The three of them made their way to where the King's tent stood, towering over its neighbors with colorful banners flying proudly at its three peaks. Ana nodded at the two Own's men who stood guard outside, ducking beneath the tent flap as they held it open for the three of them.

They did not have long to wait, for scarcely had Ana settled herself against one of the pillars than Karma strode through the entryway, a tall man with dark hair shot through with silver close on her heels. The man walked directly up to Will, then kneeled before him, his head bent.

"On behalf of myself and the people of my village," he said, from his place on the floor, "I ask leave to join your forces in turning back the scourge that gathers in the North, for—though we are not of Tortall and never have been, we heard of your call to muster and so came. Most of my people are sheltering in a fief in the hills east of here, but we have two score men of fighting age, a round dozen of which are Gifted. We are not warriors, but we ask that you let us join in this fight just the same, for we would defend our homeland as you defend yours."

Will looked down at him for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then he said, "Rise, good sir, for you need not show me fealty." The man rose to his feet, looking up at the King with a steady gaze. "What is your name?" Will asked.

"Jerod, son of Joshua." He replied.

"Jerod, son of Joshua," Will repeated. "I welcome your men and your help, for we are not in a position to turn away willing fighters in this battle," he said, "But I wonder at the reason for your coming, for I sent no men across the Drell with my call to arms."

Jerod smiled in a rather sheepish manner. "Actually, we heard no rumors, for our village is rather isolated, lying as it does on the plain east of the Drell River, two days ride south of the Tusaine Mountains. But we learned of your call to arms nonetheless, for one of us happens to be a Seer of some strength. We have been aware of the threat from Scanra for some time, for the imp lord could not conceal himself from his Sight. In the past few months, several of our number reported sightings of winged creatures flying overhead, and one of our hunters found a half-decayed corpse of something that was not quite human. Our elders had told us of the great evil that had returned to this land to threaten our livelihood, but most were adverse to abandon their homes. It was only after two of our children were found half-eaten in their beds that everyone agreed to move east, to beg sanctuary from your country."

Ana watched the man as he spoke, noting the deep lines that creased his forehead and the determined, almost wild glint in his blue eyes. His words had the ring of truth, and she knew that Lucas and Will heard it too.

But Jerod, son of Joshua was not finished.

"We do not expect you to take us in out of charity," he said, "As a token of a fealty and good faith, we come bearing information." He paused for a moment and his eyes flickered toward Ana. Then he said, "We bring news of Thaylia," his voice heavy with implication.

Ana felt a great surge of emotion swell in her chest. Joy, guilt, sorrow, anxious fear, impatient eagerness, and awful dread welled up in her throat, choking her.

She had awaited this moment for so long, putting off thinking about the day when she would be confronted with the knowledge of what was happening in her homeland—her world—while she was off in fantasy land.

Now she would know.

Now they would know.

Ana was frozen, unable to move or speak. She could do nothing but stare at Jerod.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will gesture for the man to continue.

"Soldiers came three times to our village," the man said, "they were looking for a girl with red hair and violet eyes."

Ana felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her. Jerod, Lucas, Karma, Will. Their eyes bored into her, questions staring out from their variously-colored depths.

This was the moment, but she could find no words, no explanations. She knew she should say something, anything, to fill the silent void which stretched on, but she could not summon the explanation to her lips.

So she asked a question instead, to satisfy her own curiosity, and gave no explanation.

"Did they say why they were looking for her?" Ana whispered. ("_Coward!_"A distant part of her mind cried.)

The man shook his head. "They didn't say nothing, 'cept that if we found any trace of her we was to send a messenger to Ithsma. They made it clear there was a handsome reward waiting for the man who brought viable information to them. They also said it was likely the girl was either very sick or dead, and that if we found her we was to bring her back to the garrison there."

Ana felt her paralysis broken as she realized that this man did not know who she was and could not give her away. She avoided the gazes of her friends, focusing instead on Jerod son of Joshua's solemn face. "As you can see," she said, bowing briefly to him, "You find me alive and well. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you won't be able to collect the reward from the Thaylians, for now I am Tortall's Champion, and who I was before now is irrelevant."

She looked involuntarily at Will as she said it, but his face gave away no indication of his thoughts or feelings.

She wrenched her eyes away from Will's face as his glance flickered in her direction, turning back to the leader of the village. "Do the Thaylians know of the threat from Scanra?" she asked, quietly.

"We told them of the sightings and of the legends of the imp and his dark minions." He replied, "They said they would take our words into consideration, but for the most part we could see they weren't really listening. You could tell they didn't believe our warnings. They were more concerned about finding you_._"

Jerod paused, then looked thoughtfully over at her. "There was one man who actually seemed to believe us, though," he added. "Mighty curious, that one was. Wouldn't stop asking questions, about how we made our way in the world and our history and such." He shook his head. "He was a queer one, that Imperial. Looked like a soldier but had the curiosity of a scholar. He came with the last bunch, the ones with the scarred and somber faces. His men only scowled at our stories, but he seemed to take us seriously when we told him of the terrors in the night and the looming war with Scanra."

He waved a hand at Ana, "He asked after you as well, though he asked slyer and more round-about questions."

Ana couldn't help her smile at that description of her brother. _I cannot _wait _to tell him that this man thinks he's a 'queer' one, _she thought. And then she felt a cold prickle of fear travel down her spine, and sadness washed over her as she realized that she might very well never see Darius again.

"Did he have any theories about what happened to me?" Ana asked.

Jerod shrugged. "If he did, he didn't say nothing about it. He asked about you almost automatically, but he didn't really look like he expected any answer."

"Did he look well?" she whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lucas exchanging a glance with Will, but she could have cared less what they thought of her questions. She wanted to know of her brother.

Jerod's smiled slightly, lifting his shoulders in another shrug, "He looked healthy enough. Maybe a little bit weary from travel, but he seemed lively enough."

Ana nodded, her eyes filled with tears. She felt a rush of gratitude toward this man, who had brought her this news of her brother.

Will was looking at her, his gaze full of curiosity and his brow furrowed in a frown. Over his shoulder, she could see Lucas's gaze flitting back and forth between them as he scowled.

She looked into Will's eyes, and saw frustration and doubt flickering in those sapphire depths. She knew she should do it…just say it, explain.

But she couldn't.

It was her last secret.

So the moment moved on, and Ana gave no explanation.

Will held her eye for another minute, then he looked sharply away. "Thaylia cannot help us in the coming battle," he said dismissively. Then he nodded at Jerod son of Joshua, saying, "I thank you for the information. Karma will show you where you and your men may set up your tents." Both Karma and Jerod bowed to him, then Karma led the way out of the tent.

Ana felt a frown creasing her brow as she looked at Will. "How can you be so certain that Thaylia would not give us aid?" she asked, before she could stop herself. And then, because the words could not be unsaid, she met Will's blue gaze and ploughed on. "The garrison at Ithsma has over four thousands soldiers stationed there, though they are probably not battle-ready. Perhaps if you sent a messenger—" she cut off, as Will made a sharp hand movement and interrupted her.

"Enough." He said, his tone final. "You heard the man, most of the Thaylians do not believe in this threat. And you yourself said that Thaylians know nothing of magic and the Gift. I'm sure it would be an amusing exercise to see them caught up in the middle of a battle of magic that they don't believe in, against a foe that they don't believe in, but I prefer not to waste a messenger on them who I am _certain_ cannot help us."

Ana bit her lip, suppressing the objections that rose to her tongue even as she fought back her anger. She dropped her eyes from Will's, looking over at where Lucas and Illieno stood. Illieno's eyes were on Will, his face thoughtful as he looked at his King. Ana started when she met Lucas's gaze, however, for his eyes were full of knowing pity. She looked at his furrowed brow—a sure sign that the cogs were whirling in his mind—and wondered suddenly if Lara had made an exception to her promise that she would tell _no one_ of her knowledge of Ana's background.

Ana dropped her gaze to her feet, shifting uncomfortably in the silence that had descended.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, walking resolutely out of the tent. She felt the gazes of her friends on her back as she left, but she did not wither beneath the power of their stares, instead she threw her shoulders back and strode with an unwavering step, though her hands clenched involuntarily into tight fists at her sides.

~ ~:~ ~


	53. Looming Shadows

Chapter Fifty-two: Looming Shadows

"I spy with my little eye," Illieno said, his emerald eyes scanning across the landscape they rode through, "something…green."

Ana sighed as she surveyed the scenery. Everywhere she looked she saw varying shades of green. Spring had taken hold with a vengeance, and the softly sloping hills around them were teeming with her verdant trappings. The Old Road East cut a dusty path through the landscape that varied between rippling expanses of open prairie and coppices of forest. Sometimes, the road would wind through one of these woods for quite awhile, and they would ride beneath the canopies, where sunlight filtered down through the branches of the native Tortallian trees.

She didn't even bother following Illieno's gaze to try and decipher the general direction of Illieno's target—she knew from experience that Illieno was too tricky to make her search easier by looking at his object while he described it.

"That's not fair, Illieno," Ana protested. "Last game you said that colors had to be accompanied with an adjective in the final 'spy'."

"Fine." Illieno said, "_Dark_ green, then."

_Damn him! _Ana thought. He gave her no clues, and this was the final round, wherein it would be decided whether Ana or Illieno would be christened, "Master Spymaster." It was a tentative title to hold, for the reward of having the losers address them so at every pertinent opportunity was a fiercely competed position.

"Hmmm…" Ana said, trying desperately to remember whether or not 'the shadows of leaves' had been used this game. She turned to take in the rest of the panorama, noting the places beneath the canopy where the sunlight filtered through the green leaves to light the flora of the forest in a darker green haze.

The world was alive around them; birdsong and the hum of insects composed the soundtrack of their journey, mingling with the rhythmic jingle of tack and the pounding of many hooves.

"You have to take your next guess at _some point_." Illieno said, smirking at her. "Or, you could just concede me the title and save your breath. Remember, you have to spy what I spy within two guesses or I'll see you bow before me as Master Spymaster."

Illieno had informed her that "I Spy" was a common game played by Tortallian children, but Ana remained skeptical. She was convinced that Illieno had made the game up on the spot in order to torment her, a theory reinforced by his tendency to remember the rules (like you couldn't repeat an object already spied) just after she managed to thwart him by breaking one of them.

"Fat chance." Ana muttered in Thaylian, suppressing the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Sometimes he just reminded her _so much_ of Darius. She had to remember that she was not twelve again, and that it would not be appropriate for her to be so familiar with him. So instead, she kept her dignity by simply throwing her head back and giving him her best withering look.

"I'd like to buy a question," She said, "I'll sacrifice a guess."

Illieno crossed his arms, looking at her speculatively. "I'll take that offer." He said, "Ask away."

"Will I find it on the left or right of where I ride?" She already knew that it was always visible, and that it was neither animal, vegetable, nor mineral.

"Left," Illieno said, without hesitation.

Ana looked left, watching the progression of the landscape as it fell away beneath Firedance's steady stride. She noted the riders making their way slightly ahead and to the left of the place in the column where she rode between Illieno and Karma.

The man who rode at the very head was dressed in a dark tunic that threw emerald reflections as the sunlight bounced off the fabric.

"Will's tunic," Ana murmured, before she considered or not whether she wanted that to be her final answer.

She didn't have time to regret her guess, though, for she was suddenly filled with elation as Illieno's face gave away her victory. She burst into laughter, unable to suppress a triumphant, "Who is Master Spymaster _now?" _She took one hand off of the reigns, making a grand gesture. She lifted her chin imperially, as she had seen Marghi do, and said,"As Master Spymaster, my first decree is that Illieno shall be known henceforth as Assistant Spymaster-in-training." Illieno glowered at her, and stuck out his tongue.

Laughter bubbled up from someplace deep within her, and Ana nearly fell off of Firedance's back as she doubled-over with glee.

Karma giggled from her seat up on top of Mystic's back. Despite her prophetic prowess, Karma had proved to be a disastrous 'Spymaster'. Her occasional insights could not make up for the fact that she was an awful guesser. She had a bad habit of asking detailed questions, which did little to narrow her focus. She still played when it was her turn, but it had been clear since the fifth round that she was not in contention during this game. That did not stop her from heckling them and cheering them on by turns.

"You were doomed, Illieno." Karma giggled, "It was your own fault for picking such an easy spy for the last round."

"Humph," Illieno snorted. "Are you kidding? I was banking on the fact that Ana always discards the obvious answer. She spends so much time searching the bigger picture that she's oblivious to what is close to her."

"That is Master Spymaster Ana, to you, little Spymaster-in-training." Ana said, throwing him a saucy grin. "And what is that supposed to mean, anyway? From the way you flailed around on a couple of those rounds I was certain that those eyes of yours couldn't see _anything._"

Illieno snorted, but his grin was good-natured. He put a hand to his chest, arranged his face into its best imitation of shamed meekness, and said, "I am humbled by your great wit, oh Master Spymaster. It is clear I have _so much_ to learn from your greatness."

She glowered at him, suddenly annoyed by the silly way Illieno always answered her questions. He spoke so that she could not always tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. And sometimes his words seemed to have double meanings, as if he was trying to get her to guess a 'Spy' in his words and expression, but instead of an object it was a question she was supposed to spy out the answer to. It frustrated her, for she wished that he would just _tell_ her whatever it was. The man wouldn't know a straight line of reasoning if it smacked him right on the side of his cheeky little mouth.

And she _knew_ that Karmos and Illieno were talking about her behind her back.

Her annoyance was not enough to stop the smile that broke as he pretended to cower beneath her glare, for her emotions did not yet overpower her desire to enjoy Illieno's teasing.

They shared another laugh, and though Ana's laugh was just as loud and merry as her friends', it still felt a little hallow.

Her good mood shattered, Ana let her gaze roam, as she so often did in moments like these, when the laughter died and her friends lapsed into the silence that lived between their conversations, their games and follies. The silences always grew longer and heavier as the day progressed, as if the sun's relentless march across the sky tracked their moods. In the mornings, when the world was loud and noisy around them, they were cheerful and gay—their collective relief at once again being in company after the long hours of night making them giddy. But by evening, as the shadows of the setting sun loomed toward them, they became quieter, and more sober.

For despite Illieno's endless games and pranks, Karma's stories, and Ana's spirited commentary they could not quite manage to laugh so loud that they forgot who they were and where it was they rode to. They could not forget that their laughter was only a folly, for though it filled the hours of travel in a pleasant way, it could not change the unpleasant destination.

It was usually around this time of day that Ana started staring at the scenery, searching desperately in the waning light for something she could not quite name. She felt like if she only looked hard enough she might read an answer somewhere in the folds of the land as it passed her by. _An answer to what question, though? _She wondered, _Am I really looking for anything more than a distraction from gloomy thoughts about the future? _ She let her eye fill with the bounty of spring, watching as the details of the countryside—the patterns in the bark of trees, the rippling waves of grass and wildflowers as they bent beneath the wind, the individual outlines of leaves—were swallowed beneath the approaching fingers of shadow.

Despair washed over her as the world, once again, descended into darkness. She hated the darkness these days, hated and feared it as she never had as a child. She did not look forward to another night stifled beneath the close ceiling of her tent, which was tall enough to sit upright in, but not tall enough to stand in. She dreamed uneasily these nights, of shadowy figures and scenes which floated up in her unconsciousness, the forms distorted as if looking through a dark pane of wavy glass.

A shiver ran through her spine, as she suddenly recalled the fragment of one dream.

The sun dipped low into the sky, casting the world in a red light. The shadows, in contrast, seemed blacker than the blackest of nights.

Though they traveled the same Old Road that Ana had traversed on her way to Corus, Ana found that she recognized almost nothing of the path. Occasionally, some landmark would stir a faint familiarity in her breast, but for the most part she recognized little of the landscape they rode through.

She felt as if she were really seeing the land that was Tortall for the first time again, for now it was clear to her that the hilly country north and west of Corus was the 'breadbasket' of the country, as Darius would have termed it. Occasionally, they rode through villages or hamlets of various sizes, surrounded by neatly tilled cropland where women and children sewed seeds into the rich, dark soil. She watched as a woman came to the door of a sturdy old farmhouse and rang a loud, clanking bell. At the sound of its clanging peals, the planters packed up their bags of seed for the evening and made their way into the house, out of the shadows and into the lamplit interior.

Ana gulped in the sweet breath of spring, trying vainly to hold on to some lingering sense of contentment. Yes, the air was sweetly perfumed and the countryside was beautiful, but as much as she wanted to simply enjoy the moment…she couldn't.

She was too restless.

Will had set a brisk but steady pace from the very first, one that rode the fine line between expediency and hurry. It was just enough so that they might not push the horses' endurance too much, nor fail to cover as many miles as possible in a day.

The sensible pace felt unbearably slow for Ana. As the day wore on it chaffed her more and more, until she was nearly overwhelmed with the longing to put her heels to Firedance's sides and burn off the tension they both felt at having to maintain the same stilted jog for hours and days on end.

Or perhaps it was just that the pace required no conscious effort at riding, and Ana resented that she was denied another possible distraction from her unruly thoughts and emotions.

She wanted to do anything, anything but think about her place in this world and its history. She wanted to escape the feeling that she was being dragged to her destiny; an innocent prisoner pacing her cell, waiting for the guards to come to take her to her execution. If she was going to die then she wanted to die _doing something_, something meaningful. Something direct. She wanted to fight, to feel useful and not such a tool of destiny. She wanted to shake off the feeling of helplessness that ignited her fear and anger.

Most of the time, she was grateful for Illieno's amusing little games and colorful antecedents that he related with sly humor. Then, she would play along, wagering silly things like grooming all their horses or pitching the tents in their endless gambling about who would win which game. And if Illieno was the master of entertaining distractions, then Karma was not far behind him in that scheme. In her most paranoid moments, Ana suspected that Illieno and Karma were under orders from Will to entertain her, to keep her occupied so she would not disturb him and whatever it was that he was doing.

At other times, Illieno's unending cheerfulness and Karma's ceaseless compassion only served to aggravate her. Then, she struggled not to snap at them. She resented how easy they always seemed, for she wished she could be as carefree as he and as composed as she.

Her rational mind knew that both Illieno and Karma were only trying their best to placate and distract her—to ease the long hours of travel. But she could not help the feeling that she was being left out in the dark.

Her moods peaked and dipped like the hills and valleys they rode through.

That night, after they'd pitched camp, the three of them joined Lucas, Tohmas, and a smattering of other men around the big fire outside of the King's tent. That was usually where they ate their dinner, lingering around the bright flames and trying to forget the shadows all around them.

One of their favorite evening pastimes was the story-telling tourney. It had been Ana's idea originally, for she had long observed that the Tortallian people were fiercely proud of their oral tradition. At first, she had had to beg and wheedle her friends into declaiming, but, as more and more people came to watch, listen, and participate, her friend's shrugged off their self-consciousness and became more enthusiastic. This improved the quality of the stories by a good deal. They took turns telling stories, and awarding each other with positive or negative 'points' as the listeners acted as judges. Listeners were allowed to ask questions, but only one per story (As Lucas had insisted, if he was partake). They did not keep score, for they felt no need to. They all had their strengths and their challenges; Karma was clearly the queen of the dramatic tale, while Illieno was at his best telling thrilling but improbable scenes, where the dashing hero was always getting caught up into some tight situation and having to riddle his way out of the fire, only to fall directly into some other pot. Lucas told grand, sweeping tales that varied in tone and genre but were always riveting. The Voice of the Tribes, the leader of the fierce, dark-skinned Bazhir, was a master storyteller, weaving haunting tales of magic and mystery from his people's folklore. Others came and went, and added their voices to the tourney, or simply watched. Some men sang ballads, and often a tale was accompanied by various melodies, as the musically adept brought out their instruments to enrich the tales. She had learned a lot about the telling of stories by listening to the Tortallians spin their tales, but she preferred listening and judging to performing.

She enjoyed the story-telling, but, she thought, as she lay strangled in her bedroll that night, it also triggered her irritation. _I am not usually such a moody person, _she thought, watching the play of shadows on the peaked ceiling of her tent. _Perhaps that is the question I have been looking for: why do I feel this way? _

She'd hoped that the restlessness would ease once they were on their way, but, to her frustration, the sense of tension did not ebb. She could feel her emotions roiling inside her, like a kettle of water coming to boil over a slow fire. She could feel the pressure building inside her, and feared what would happen when it became too much. Would she snap then, and lose all control over her mind and body? Would she give in to all of the dark thoughts and intentions that seethed under the surface of her consciousness?

She let off steam in everyway she could, sparring with whoever would engage her, conversing with Karma, laughing at Lucas's bad jokes, and playing along with Illieno's absurd games…but despite her friends' efforts, or perhaps because of them, her frustration and annoyance only grew as their journey progressed.

Her friends could not comfort her, because it was not they who could grant her the freedoms she felt she deserved.

_I want a choice, _Ana thought. _That is the answer. I feel like a marionette, made to move my limbs and walk and run as my strings are pulled. And when the puppet master is not there to make me dance and perform, then I am stuffed into a dusty corner, forced to watch as the show goes on around me. _

She didn't really have to wonder, actually, she knew _exactly_ why she was so cross.

Will was avoiding her. She was certain of it.

He was almost always off elsewhere, usually surrounded by a gaggle of advisors or knights or the King's Own. And when he did join the three of them, he rode a little apart and seldom deigned to take part in their games and conversations. Sometimes, he would gesture subtly, and the game could pause for minutes or hours as he and Illieno rode out ahead of the column, off to do some mysterious deed.

It drove her absolutely crazy, not knowing what Will was up to. He certainly didn't give any clue as to his thoughts; though his eyes were often distant, his face relaxed into studied neutrality.

He rarely approached her unless it was for a specific reason…and if she moved to ride beside him, it was never long before he managed to duck away, off to scout or confer with one advisor or another. He was distant and formal, as if she had become a stranger again after swearing allegiance to him. She learned her duties as Champion indirectly, through the subtle hints and blatant advice dropped by Lucas, Tohmas, and Illieno.

She had been certain, when she had stood on the dais and said the words with all of her heart, that they had understood each other in that moment. That he had seen that she needed to be informed, needed to be useful, needed to _earn_ the respect that she had been so hastily granted. She had been sure that he had seen that she needed him to trust her.

She had hoped that would mean he would take her into his confidence, to let her know the thoughts behind the carefully neutral face of authority.

But instead he kept her in the dark about his plans. Through Lucas and Illieno, he told her what to do, to smile and laugh and make merry. To be an example to the troops of discipline and maintain her dignity at all times, for she was watched at all times. Apparently it was not appropriate for the Champion of Tortall to be worried about the future, though the King was allowed to worry all he wanted.

She was a shining beacon of hope and had to play the part, though she felt an imposter in the role. She felt that she had not yet proven herself worthy of the honor she had been given, and resented that Will denied her the opportunity to test herself.

Without even realizing it Ana drifted into sleep, and watched through darkly tinted glass as blood ran through the plowed furrows of Tortall's farmland, and the shadows of darkness writhed and billowed with a sick, manic frenzy over the valleys and hills and forests. The sky became dark and stormy above her. A massive thunderhead with two glowing, burning eyes staring out of the depths of the roiling cloud loomed over head while lightning played beneath them, flashing a cruel, hungry smile.

There was no light in this darkness, and no light within her to keep it at bay.

Ana tossed and turned, wrestling with the demons behind her eyelids and waiting for the darkness to end. In the blackest hours of the night she grew certain that she would never wake from the nightmares that held her, she lay, suspended between waking and dreaming, aware of her body paralyzed and helpless beneath her sheets but unable to stir her limbs in order to wake, to run from the shadows that reached for her. She could not cry out, could not scream though she longed to, for her voice had been strangled and there was no one to hear her anyway, for the darkness had swallowed them all.

~ ~:~ ~


	54. Tense Travels

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed these last few chapters!! I have to apologize for being so very inconsistent recently, but there is a lot going on in Nessa's World (job hunting, college hunting, scholarship hunting) and I don't always find the time to write as I should. Also, I have to admit, this chapter (and the previous one...and the next one) has been kicking my ass for about a month now. I've been stumped about how to get the right sort of mood, and to tie together all of the storylines into a transition that makes coherent sense with what is to come. I've been scribbling little bits of this and that for...well, it seems like forever, but things are finally starting to fall into place. This chapter is hot off the press, actually, so please excuse any editorial mistakes that I might have missed in my flurry to get it to you guys.

Your reviews are inspiring, and keep me on my toes--which is totally awesome. I'm sorry that things (both in the writing, and plot development department) are going a little slowly right now, but I promise that things will be speeding up _soon._ Thanks for hanging in there with me!

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifty-three: Tense Travels

Tension.

Tension all around him.

Tension thrumming through his veins. Every muscle clenched, every nerve-ending sparked, and his heart pounded in a ragged rhythm. He could hear himself grinding his teeth, but he could not stop himself, for he was paralyzed, petrified by the tension that hovered close about him, strangling him even as he lay helpless in his bedroll.

During the day, when the sun shone bright and cheerful in the sky, the tension seemed like only the memory of a bad dream, haunting the edges of his awareness. Then, he reveled in the exhilaration of being _alive_. He inhaled the sweet air of springtime and laughed loud and long in defiance of death, for all around him the world abounded with the vibrant bounty of life.

When they were riding, he was able to push aside his worries, his fear. He joked and capered, in the refreshing company of Ana's playful wit, and Karma's sly, black humor. He was happy to have those two women in his life, for they were bright stars in a dark night.

He wished that he had known them sooner, that he had had the chance to play and frolic with them in his childhood, when life had been so simple and free. When they paused in their conversations, and silence descended, Illieno couldn't help but wonder, sometimes, that he had only known Karma for a few days, and Ana only a week or so longer. He felt as if he had always known them, that they understood his need to laugh and grin cheekily in the face of fate.

He was glad that he would have them beside him when the time finally came, and they fought against the Imp and his horde. As a long-time gambler, Illieno knew that the odds were heavily stacked against them. His spies had informed him that the Imp's forces were so vast they seemed to span from horizon to horizon, and that at night, the lights from their campfires seemed as numerous as the stars, though they could not be the stars, for clouds obscured the skies above the dark army.

He knew that it was a long bet, to bet on them all making it through the coming battle alive. He knew that there were pretty good odds that _he_ would leave this world in one way or another. Probably while attempting to execute some hare-brained scheme thought up on a whim.

But he was betting his life on that slim chance of success, and the tension could not drive away the hope that filled him whenever he was with Ana and Karma. So he laughed and played. He knew that he was overcompensating with his tricks and follies, but he could not seem to stop, even when he saw that his behavior had crossed the line between amusing and annoying.

Then again, there were times when Karma's complacency and tendency towards cynicism wore on his nerves. Ana drove him especially crazy sometimes, for her quicksilver moods, when combined with her stubborn determination to ignore her own feelings, could be unbearable. Will was just as bad, if not worse. But Illieno knew Will, better, perhaps, than Will knew himself, and Illieno understood Will's renitence. Understanding, however, did not translate into empathy. Will's ability to assess a situation was unparalleled; the man was an expert at calculating strategy. In the past, Illieno had admired that about Will, for he was _driven_ to learn, to question the things he learns and weigh them against his own experiences and the needs of the circumstances. But, Mirthros, when Will became convinced about something he could be so _stubborn_! Sometimes, when Illieno was in his darker moods, he felt a little smug knowing that Will was digging his own grave. It was an ugly feeling, and it disgusted him even as he thought that it was just that Will's greatest asset—his ability to wait for the right moment to employ the right strategy—was the root of his unhappiness.

But then the feeling would pass, and he felt only sad that Ana and Will were so blind to the fact that they needed _each other. _He had sworn a solemn oath to Will that he would say nothing to Ana about his knowledge of his friend's feelings, but he gave her little hints whenever he could.

Not that she ever _got _any of them.

And as for Will…well, perhaps if he pushed just a little bit he could get him to see that Ana needed him to make the first move.

Illieno drifted off into an uneasy sleep, and his eyelids flickered as he dreamed gray, wispy dreams of his childhood. But Ana and Karma were there, with him and Will. He was eleven again, and they were running through the familiar streets of Corus, waving sticks and shrieking as they played games of war and heroic battle. Ana, her face young and bright and untroubled, said that she was the Lioness, and that they were running to break the siege at Corus. "I'm George Cooper!" Illieno called, whirling in a circle, then posturing valiantly. "I'll save you all from the Imp!"

Ana rolled her eyes, laughing. "You come too late though," she said. "I do all the work and you just clean up the mess."

"Let's act it out." Karma suggested, her brown eyes twinkling. Yes, they all agreed. "Will is King Jonathon, trapped in the Palace." Ana said to Will, pointing to the tower that had appeared in the distance, "I'll come and save you!"

Will grinned at her, his face the happy, open face of his boyhood, when he'd felt free to show his emotions

"But first you have to battle the Imp!" Illieno said, He suddenly strode between them, changing in character from savior to villain without a blink. Karma was at his side, "And you have to sneak out of the Siege of Pirate's Swoop and past the Imp's armies before you can battle _him_."

Ana looked back and forth between them, contemplating these new developments. She ran behind a tree, for they were in a park, where the great oaks stood straight and tall, looking solemnly down upon them. "I have to get past you!" she called, naming the game.

"I'll hide," Will put in, moving off into the trees, "and then you have to find me, Ana."

And then the dream changed, changed so suddenly it nearly woke him up. In the dreamland, he heard the sound of dry, evil laughter ringing through the trees and he cringed, suddenly alone in a dark forest where wolves howled and owls shrieked over the sound of the terrible, terrible laughter.

Illieno opened his eyes, staring at the opening ceiling of his tent, where he could see the first rays of morning shining through. He shivered, feeling exposed and shaken. He lay back for a moment, breathing in deeply as he tried to shake off the tension that made his muscles quiver.

It was no use. He had to _move_ or he would go crazy.

Heaving a sigh, Illieno rolled to his feet, bundling his blankets into a neat roll. It was still very early, it would be an hour or two before the camp stirred and broke the night's fast. He had time enough for a short run. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he would stumble upon a stream or farmer's well where he could have a wash.

Illieno made him self invisible and discovered something startling.

The tension disappeared.

In his surprise, he tripped over the bedroll he'd just finished bundling and landed heavily on his back. His fall was cushioned by his saddlebags, but in a lumpy, uncomfortable way. Illieno groaned as he lay there, for he felt again the pressure all around him. The pressure to _move_. He opened his eyes and saw that he was visible again.

With an effort, Illieno pushed against the tension which surrounded him. He summoned his discipline and remembered what it was to be _nothing_, to be unseen, unnoticed, unsubstantial.

The tension reached a tipping point and then it disappeared, even as he felt himself disappear.

There was no one to see him grin, so there was no one to judge whether it was smirk or grimace, but some strong feeling made Illieno's lips draw back to expose his teeth.

_I must talk to Will about this, _Illieno thought, as he invisibly got to his feet. _Will and Karma both, for I am very disconcerted with this development and would like to know their thoughts on the matter. _He might have added Ana to that list, but he was reluctant to tell her, for he could sometimes predict her moods and he thought the knowledge would only serve to frustrate and frighten her.

~:~

Will stared straight ahead, his expression blank as he guided Darkness along the Old Road East, but though his features remained impassive his mind churned with his inner turmoil. Emotions waged constant war in his body and mind, wounding him with their ferocious power.

On his right hand, Illieno, Ana, and Karma were involved in a fierce riddling competition. Karma was the best guesser, but Illieno was the best riddler, and Ana played with determination, but was easily stumped. She was good-natured about losing, and laughed along with Illieno's ribbing and Karma's dry observations. He watched out of the corner of his eye as they cavorted and teased each other, and seethed inwardly.

He longed to join in the game, in the happy society that had sprung up in the past few days. But as much as Illieno sought to draw him into their little fold, the more an intruder on their fun he felt. He could not quite bring himself to join in their amusements, for he could not keep his mind on silly games or riddles, not when there were so many other things he had to be thinking about. And he had no patience with losing, as he enviably did, distracted as he was by the ominous thoughts and feelings which churned inside him.

Time. Time was slipping away from him.

There was so much to do and so little time to do it in. Will went endlessly over his plans and strategy, looking for holes and flaws. He held conferences with all of his advisors and questioned his spies, gathering every scrap of information about the enemy available. He thought he finally had it all figured out in his mind, and tonight he would bring all of his commanders together, to fill them all in on the big picture and outline their individual pieces in the puzzle.

He knew it was fruitless to continue to revise his plans now—they were made, and only waited the time for their execution—but his mind kept on searching for a catch, kept envisioning different scenarios and conceiving of problems that may arise, kept on trying to come up with solutions, ways to counter the moves of his shadowy opponent.

He was also keenly aware that he must not make the mistake of assuming that Li Dubyn would act in a predictable manner. There were so many possible ways for the imp to attack; it was not conceivable that Will could imagine them all. He had made the best plan that he could from the information he had, weighing the costs to his people if they tried this tactic or that.

He knew he should allow himself to relax now, but he couldn't quite manage.

The irritating feeling that he was missing something vitally important plagued him.

He felt like he was leading his people to their execution.

He felt like it was already too late, and that their history was written for them. He thought of the choices he'd made, the chances he'd taken, and wondered where he had gone wrong.

For Will had learned to trust in his dreams, and his dreams had gone gray.

He tried to remember exactly when it had started to happen, when it was that the vibrancy of his dreams had begun to decay. What night had the color started to drain from his dreamlands? He couldn't be certain, for it had crept up upon him so slowly that had hadn't noticed, at first, that his dreams were changing. If he had to pinpoint a time, it had been just after Ana's return to Corus. He thought that his dreams had been subtly graying for some good time before the Feast of the Anointing, but it had been that night that he became conscious that his dreams had morphed into nightmares.

Since that night, he'd watched, helpless, as his dreams became darker and more obscured. Now, when he went to sleep, the images frightened him with their bleak, ashy tones. He caught only fleeting glimpses of previous dreams, and they were distorted as if seen through a shattered mirror, throwing dark reflections of a burned and bloody world.

His dreams disturbed him, for never before had they been so hopeless, so bleary. His dreams terrified him and fueled the doubt which plagued him, doubt which he could not shake.

He remembered the vivid, _real_ quality of his dreams before…before whenever it was they'd become tainted.

He wondered how Li Dubyn had done it, that tainting.

Illieno's information about the effects of becoming invisible (not to mention his vivid relation of his own dreams, just before the discovery) had been the final confirmation in his mind; the imp was somehow able to affect their dreams.

He had already pestered Tohmas and Harrison about the limitations of the Gift, straining his own memory to think of any mention of a spell that could manipulate a person's unconscious. Harrison shook his head and said that he would ask around to see if anyone among the mages had any obscure knowledge of imp Gifts, while Tohmas grew pensive and dove into his books (Will wondered where it was that Tohmas stored his seemingly endless supply of books, for he always seemed to be immersed in one giant tomb or another, yet he carried nothing more than his saddle-bags. Perhaps he had a small library stashed in one of the supply tents.) But wherever Tohmas got his information, Will was grateful, for the old man was a wizard when it came to the ways of magic and the Gift. Tohmas told him that it was said that the Gods had the power to affect dreams, and that it was possible to hypnotize a person with the Gift in a way that allowed one to suggest and direct a person's dreams. "But it is necessary for the spellweaver and the dreamer to be in contact in some fashion."

"Could the spell be woven through a likeness of the person? Or at a distance?" Will had asked.

Tohmas shook his head, "If there is a way then it is not in my books or my experience, but that does not by any means mean it is impossible. The Imp might have better references than I. But I shall bend my mind to the matter, and see if I can come up with a way to shield our dreams." He smiled at him, but his eyes were already distant and his brow was furrowed as he muttered, "It is very interesting that Illieno is able to escape the edgy energy he feels when he becomes invisible…"

And in the mean time, Will had another worry to add to the seething cauldron of doubt and terror and uncertainty that had become his inner world.

For if his theory was correct, and Li Dubyn had managed to cast a spell over them all, to send evil dreams, then what _else_ was he capable of? How could he ever hope to counter such knowledge and power?

How could he send his people into battle against such a foe?

He had doomed them all to die.

_No, _he thought fiercely. _No, I will not give in to Li Dubyn and his fear-mongering. He wants me afraid, uncertain. He wants me to surrender to the fear, the tension, the doubt. _

Will let his eyes rove across the scenery, willing himself to believe that he could bring them all through these dark times. If they were to die, then they would go down fighting to their last breath. His people believed in him, so there could be no room for doubt. He had to _know_ that what he did was right, so they would not lose faith and waver in their trust in him.

His eyes focused, and Will became aware that his glance had wandered over to where Ana rode on Firedance's back, laughing to some joke of Illieno's or Karma's making. It was a direction which his eyes—and his thoughts—often went, though he could no longer meet her gaze, shamed that she might see the fear in his eyes.

He was suddenly struck with violent self-loathing.

_For a King, _he thought, _I am a mighty coward. I cannot even speak to the woman I love, for fear she will hear my passion in my words, fear that she will know my heart and her eyes will tell me that she does not feel the same. Instead I hover on the edges of her days, like the fumbling, creeping coward I am, too fearful of rejection to seek her attention. _

If only she would give him some clue, some hint as to how she felt. He'd been hopeful, on the night that he'd made her Champion—when she had looked into his eyes and said that she was his to command—that she had said the words because she felt as he did. He had almost made himself believe that she understood what he did not say, that he needed her—not just for his country and his people but for _him. _He needed her to trust him, needed her to be _honest_ with him.

He had done his best to ease her transition into responsibility, allowing her time to rest and recover from the Knighthood trials. He had left Ana alone, not wanting to burden her further with worry when she had enough to worry about already. He'd asked Lucas to tell her the role of a Champion, but in a gentle, subtle way, so that she might maintain her honor and dignity and not have to suffer the indignity of having to admit ignorance and endure an overt explanation. She had taken a heavy honor upon her, but she had risen admirably to the position. She _was_ the Champion of Tortall, for she championed everyone with her smiles and brave laughter in the face of such danger.

But the next time he had seen her she had been curt and formal, and her eyes had glinted with a hostile light when she looked at him, as if she were angry. She had evaded his questions when he asked what troubled her, until he had given up in frustration.

After that brief encounter, on the very first eve of their journey, he had approached her with caution, never knowing what mood she might be in. Usually she was cordial enough, but for the most part she ignored him, conversing with everyone but him.

So he cowered and wondered, wondered whether it was the imp's spell that had made her so volatile around him…or _had_ she seen the confession in his words that night, as she'd taken her swords from his grip? Was this her way of warning him, of letting him down gently by snubbing him?

And then there was the matter of the man—the man that Ana had asked about. He remembered her face as she stared at Jerod son of Joshua with tear-filled eyes and whispered, "Did he look well?"

Who was that man?

Who was he, to inspire such love and caring from her? What did he mean to Ana? What did Ana mean to him?

Jealousy simmered in his chest, churning and bursting in searing bubbles.

It haunted him, rearing its ugly head and souring his temper.

It drove him crazy, the way they wagered silly things like singing a song or scouring the dishes after the evening meal. He hated having to endure listening to the three of them laugh at their own anecdotes and converse with the comedic timing of old friends. They were inseparable, those three—the Own had taken to calling them the Three Jokers, talking about them like they were some sort of traveling troupe.

Will gritted his teeth, annoyed at himself, at Illieno..and Ana…at the whole situation. It drove him crazy because he_ wanted_ to play with her, with them. He would have given anything at that moment to be able to laugh as they did.

But he must keep his features neutral, to keep his face relaxed and calm, or else he might betray to them just how _terrified_ he was. He could not see, but he could _feel_ the long column of men and horses, wagons and dogs and animal friends that followed behind him. He felt the weight of their loyalty, the pull of their eyes. He did his best to look into the eyes of his men with a sure, steady gaze; to reassure them with his calm but purposeful movements. Sometimes, he would ride among them with Lucas (and the ever-present honor guard of five Own's men) for a time. The King's Own were seasoned warriors, but many of the knights were farmers or merchants or craftsmen first, and the two of them spent hours with one motley group or another, discussing their lives, their families, their fortunes, and skills. He asked them questions about their lives, to remind them of the reasons they rode to war—to defend their livelihoods. When he had to, he gave orders with practiced ease, trusting that they would be followed. Sometimes, he went with a group of scouts to ride ahead—then, he would take Illieno with him, for Illieno was, for obvious reasons, an excellent scout. Illieno was also his protection, and he always felt more confident knowing that Illieno was watching his back.

Perhaps a lot of the jealousy had to do with the fact that Illieno—_his_ best friend—was suddenly spending so much time with Ana and not with him. Guilt roiled in his stomach as Will recognized that he resented their easy friendship, for it had cost him the company of either of them.

Will looked out over the horizon, trying to hold back the scowl that wanted to creep onto his face. To his right, he could hear Illieno's bright voice sing-songing some stilly ballad or other while Ana giggled and Karma grinned. Lucas was a quiet but bulky presence to his left, and the five Own's men stretched out behind him like a shadow.

A movement in the distance caught his eye, and Will turned his head, looking north as he searched the horizon. A moment later, a rider crested the nearest hill, galloping on a course to intercept them. The man was dressed like a scout or hunter, in dark greens and browns that blended into the landscape.

Will pointed out the rider to Lucas, but it was Illieno who commented, "Looks like he's got some news for us."

Will held up an arm to indicate a change of pace, and reigned in Darkness so that the scout could catch up with them.

The rider pulled up fast next to them, pausing only to bow deeply, before he navigated his horse into the space next to Lucas.

"Your Majesty," he said breathily, bowing his head, "Lord Commander…Champion Ana…Spymaster,"

"Yes, yes," Illieno piped in, winking at the younger man, "We are all acquainted, why don't you tell us who _you _are and what news you have for us."

The scout blinked, his youthful face revealing his astonishment and awe for a moment, before he steeled himself for his report.

"I am Ian Billows," he stammered, blushing. "A group of us were scouting the countryside north and east of here," he said, looking timidly up at them, "and we came upon a little village where there were no men, only women and children and the occasional old gaffer too old to ride to war," The man paused—well, boy really, Will thought. He couldn't have claimed more than fifteen years, for his features were just beginning to lose their boyish softness, just beginning to harden into the planes of manhood. He took in a deep breath, and then the words rushed out in a torrent, "They are in real trouble, they are, cause a nest of spidrens has moved into the cavern beneath the waterfalls and they keep attacking people and lots of pets have disappeared…"

"How far away is this village?" Lucas asked, "Could we make it there before sunset?"

The boy bobbed his head, pointing in a diagonal line across the hills, "It is about an hours ride in that direction," he said, "The spidren's nest is a little bit farther north, past the village and through a bit of woodland."

"Thank you for this information, Ian Billows of River Falls," Will said, nodding in acknowledgement. Ian Billow's blush deepened as he looked at his King, but his eyes also shown with pride as Will said, "You will take us to your village and we will take care of the problem." He turned to look at Illieno and his eye could not help but see Ana in the background, her face unreadable as she looked at him. "Lucas and I will take a dozen of the Own's fastest riders—I want archers and swordsmen—and we will catch up with you this evening, if all goes smoothly. If not, we will rejoin you when we can, but keep moving, for we cannot afford to delay our journey."

Ana's face transformed as he finished speaking. "You want me to ride on ahead while you dash off to go spidren-hunting?" She said incredulously, crossing her arms as she frowned at him. "I don't think so."

Will felt his anger boil to the surface of his mind, and he returned her scowl for scowl. He well remembered the results of her last entanglement with spidrens, and he did not want her to have to face the memories of that encounter. He did not want her to go, for he did not want her exposed to danger when he could so easily go in her stead.

Illieno was frowning at him as well. "I ride where you ride, Will," he said flatly. "You aren't leaving me behind."

"Some one needs to lead the army onward," Will said, trying to sound reasonable. Mostly he just sounded petulant, however.

Ana's scowl darkened, "They know where we are going better than I do," she retorted.

"Ana makes a good point," Lucas said quickly, laying a hand on Will's tense shoulders. "As Champion it is her duty to respond to such threats." He did not need to add, "And as King it is your place to lead the army on," but Will heard the unspoken reminder in his words. He clenched his jaw but nodded, ashamed that Lucas had had to remind him of his duty. But he was also irked at the way he'd been navigated—he felt like they'd all turned on him.

"Besides," added Illieno, with false levity. "If Ana and Firedance were allowed to set the pace we'd all drop dead of exhaustion before Li Dubyn even gets a chance at us, the way she and that pretty filly bound from place the place."

"Goddess bless your mission," Will said, trying to keep the irritation from his tone, "Report to me when you get back."

Then he leaned forward on Darkness's back, pressing his heels into the stallion's sides. Darkness responded with an effortless change of gait, falling into a loping canter as the King pulled out ahead of the army of Tortall. The honor guard stretched out behind him like a shadowy cape, followed by the regimented ranks of the King's Own, then the motley collection of knights, and nobility, tribesmen and men-at-arms , mages and healers and tradesmen that made up the largest portion of the army.

But his mind was centered on the score of people that peeled off from the greater whole, riding north and east across the grassy plain. He could see the glint of sunlight off the vibrant red of Ana's hair as she galloped away from him, and he felt the terror rise up in his throat once again.

~:~

"Goddess bless your mission," Will snapped, his face tight with repressed anger. "Report to me when you get back."

Then he turned his face away, and Darkness leapt into a smooth canter, the stallion's strides as long and measured as if they were charging into battle. The five Own's men followed close behind him, keeping pace with their King as was their place.

Illieno sighed loudly, blowing out his cheeks. "I think we are going to have to continue this later, ladies," he said. "Excuse me while I go placate the drama queen."

"What is a drama queen?" Ana asked, as she frowned after Will's retreating back.

"Mr. Angst up there would serve as a decent definition at the moment." Illieno rejoined, rolling his eyes. "Ride swiftly, but safely, little ones." He continued, nodding at Ana and Karma. "I miss you already."

Ana laughed, but her face was troubled as she turned away, following behind Lucas and the dozen of the King's Own he'd gathered. It comforted him to know that Karma would be looking after her, for—though he knew Ana was capable enough—she was also a trouble magnet.

Then he put his feet to Eclipse's sides, letting the stallion stretch his legs as he caught up to where Will rode, with the honor guard a consummate v behind him.

Illieno swung Eclipse smoothly into the center of the v, keeping pace with Will and Darkness. They were riding too swiftly for conversation, but the fierce scowl that twisted Will's face and the taunt, tense lines of his body spoke volumes about his friend's agitation. Illieno knew Will needed to just ride it out, to channel the anger and the jealousy and the resentment into the movement of his horse and the feeling of the landscape whipping past them.

He rode with Will, knowing that it was likely to be some time before Will accepted the circumstances and regained his perpetual composure. He waited patiently for his friend to work it all through, though he waited invisibly, for he found patience easier to come by when he was unseen.

The day unfolded before them, and the miles disappeared beneath the steady gait of their horses, filled only with the sound of the thunderous pounding as multiple hooves struck hard dirt.

~:~

Will paced the length of his tent, feeling caged by the close quarters of the canvas walls. He wished for the comfortable circuit of his rooms in the palace—here, he could not properly stretch out his legs, for just when he was getting into the movement he would hit a wall and have to turn.

Time. Time was slipping away from him again. He could feel it, spinning out of his control. He felt that come end was coming, coming to him swifter than he had prepared for.

Yet every minute felt like an hour, and every hour an eternity as he waited for Ana to return. He paced and fidgeted and scowled at the slow progress of the sun's crawl across the sky.

But the sun had long set and still they had not returned. He worried that something may have befallen them. Perhaps he should have sent more men…

"Stop it Will," Illieno snapped, suddenly. He appeared in Will's path, his arms folded across his chest. "I've had enough of this pacing and fretting. It's driving me loony." He unfolded one arm long enough to poke him sharply in the arm, then retracted it again. "You can't ignore me forever, and you won't feel any better unless you let go of some of that baggage that you insist on hauling about."

"What do you want me to say, Illieno?" Will asked, frowning at him. "What secrets do I have that you do not already know or think that you know?"

"Lets start simply." Illieno said, "What are you going to do about Ana?"

Will threw up his hands in exasperation, "You call that starting simply?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I hate to guess what your follow up might be."

"Oh come on, Will!" Illieno snapped, "Even I know that there are times for seriousness. I think in this moment it is warranted." He leaned forward, intruding on Will's personal space. "Are you jealous? Is that why you give me the silent treatment?" He asked. Then he stood back, his hands down at his sides. "Are you really angry with me for being friends with Ana or are you only angry at yourself, for not having the courage to befriend her?"

"Jealous?" Will barked. "Yes, I am jealous of you. I am jealous of how easy you are around her and how easy she is around you. I am jealous of everyone she is so easy with."

Illieno rolled his eyes. "Whose fault is that?" He questioned, "Do you think you are _helping _your chances with her by ignoring her?"

Will stared at Illieno, startled by the empty dread he felt at his friend's words. "I do not know how to approach her," Will whispered, looking away from Illieno's green gaze. "I do not know, for I do not know what she wants of me." Anger tightened his jaw again, and his words came through clenched teeth. "I do not understand her and her moods, for she reacts so unexpectedly these days."

Illieno snorted. "For a very observant man you can be so blind sometimes," he said, "Can't you see that Ana needs to feel useful? She needs to feel like she has some measure of control over what happens to her—she needs to be given a _choice_."

"How do you know that?" Will asked him, "Has she told you that?"

Illieno crossed his arms again. "Not in so many words_,_" he said evasively.

Will glowered at him. "Has she spoken to you about me?" he asked, wondering if Illieno's loyalty to Ana would prevent him from sharing his information. His fears were unwarranted, however for Illieno said, "She doesn't talk to _me_ about you—she talks about everything _but_ you—but I have an inside source that's very reliable." Illieno grinned at him, and Will knew he meant Karma. "Trust me; she wants your attention as much as you want hers, but she's caught up in the Imp's spell like the rest of us and it's putting her on edge." Illieno's grinned died, and then he murmured, "It's putting us all on edge."

Will put his hand on Illieno's shoulder.

"You are right," he said quietly. "We must not forget the Imp's spell, must not surrender to the tension which seeks to pull us apart"

Illieno reached up to grip Will's hand and then he became invisible.

Will felt himself pulled along through the anchor of their hands, into the nothingness.

It truly felt like nothingness, being insubstantial. It never ceased to startle him, the feeling of invisibility, though it had been years since Illieno had mastered the trick of casting his ability away from his body. He still needed physical contact, however, and whenever he brought Will with him to that place between here and there, where he was not just unnoticed, but truly unseen, Will was always unsettled by the transition.

But this time it staggered him, for when Illieno made them invisible he could feel the tension slide from him like oily film sloughing from his skin in hot bath water. The difference was astonishing. He felt like the world had just become sharper, clearer, more focused.

He knew exactly what he needed to do, but he no longer feared doing it. Instead, he felt a jittery anticipation. He had lived with the tension for so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like to be pleasantly nervous.

He needed to tell Ana how he felt before it was too late, to let her choose the path they would take from her on out. He needed to find the words to make her understand, to find a way into her world, her heart.

"I will make my peace with her tonight," Will said, "before the war council." He took in a deep breath, then let it go.

He could not see him, but Will felt Illieno's hand tighten on his own. "It is the right thing to do," Illieno's voice said, gently. "Sometimes you just need to put all your cards on the table to see what kind of hand you have."

"I know." Will murmured. He took a step backward, and when their contact broke he _snapped_ back into the world, the world where the air hummed with underlying tension. But he stiffened his resolve and held the tension at bay, holding on to the hope that had been planted in his chest.

~ ~:~ ~


	55. Confessions

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Ah-ha! Fanfiction will let me download documents again! I finished this chapter last night, but this time its not my fault it wasn't available sooner ;) I have to admit, I can't believe we have gotten to this point in the story--I haven't quite wrapped my mind around the fact that we are riding toward the part in the tale that brought me back to Tortall and Thalyia in the first place. Writing this story has truly been an awakening experience for me, as an author. I cannot express how grateful I am that you guys are with me in this, completion of the story I began _years _ago. I love fanfiction, for it is instant gratification writing. You guys (girls? readers? awesome people?) make that possible. My thanks to you:

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifty-four: Confessions

Ana inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly to savor the crisp, clear air of the spring night. The sounds of the crickets chirruping and insects whirring combined with the evening calls of birds, weaving a melody for the pounding tympani of hoof beats. Firedance's stride was long and elastic, each step sure as the waxing moon lit the path into subtle brilliance.

She felt a smile hovering about her mouth as she rode, filled with a satisfaction that she had long forgotten. She was content, at that moment, just to revel in the sweet evening breeze and the feeling of the world flying past her as she rode with Firedance.

The jittery restlessness that had plagued her had retreated for the moment, allowing her to revel in the bliss of self-satisfaction. Not even the knowledge that they were late in rejoining the army could dim her glory in the fact that they had _accomplished _something, something good…something useful.

Their venture had been trickier than they'd anticipated, made complicated by the discovery that two children had been kidnapped by the spidrens just that evening. That had drastically altered their strategy from destruction to salvation, and they'd had to exercise extra caution in their attack, so as to not harm the two boys and one girl that had been taken. They had been lucky, though, for the spidrens had only tied them up in sticky webbing and sedating them with their tricky poisons. (Lucas had explained, in an undertone to her, that spidrens liked their prey _still alive, _and that a mother will capture prey to bring back to her hatchlings. He talked about them as casually as if he were explaining how a mother bird brought worms to her fledglings, but she could not forget that those were _human beings_ she was feeding to her offspring.) They had also been lucky in that the den had housed only a nesting mother and her mate, not an entire colony. Karma had related a few tales on their way, about the massive colonies of spidrens that lived in the woods beyond her home fife, and the raids that she and her brothers had witnessed in their childhood. Karma's stories had prepared her for what they would find, and how they would best approach the den.

Ana remembered her own experience with spidrens and tried not to grimace at the association the mere mention of the creatures recalled. Yet, when it had come to it, Ana found herself unimpressed by the brutal efficiency with which they had dispatched the spidrens. The pair had been vastly outnumbered, in both arms and wits, and they quickly fell beneath Lucas's blade and the arrows of the Own. They shot most of the little ones—as big as Ana's head and viscously fast—as they swarmed out of the den to feed off of their parents' corpses, drawn by the scent of spilled blood.

She could not help but feel like an executioner as she dragged the female—still snarling, even in death—to the mass grave they had dug, but she put aside the thought that this was a mother they had murdered and let go of her emotions.

_They are a menace, _she reminded herself, and did not fail to do her part in this duty.

They'd found the children in the back of the cave behind the waterfall, bound, bruised, and unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. They'd been delayed only because villagers of River Falls had insisted on thanking them, and Lucas had caved beneath their persistent gratitude. (Lucas, for all his pride, was a sucker for a good meal). He'd allowed the villagers—women, children, the elderly, and invalid who had stayed behind to tend the fields and the businesses as their men rode to battle—to host them in the little tavern that lay in the center of own. The food had been excellent and the mood merry, but Ana could see in the women's eyes a solemn acceptance and grim determination. They were a hardy people, the Tortallians, a people who endured, who survived and coped no matter the circumstances.

It made a blush rise to her cheeks when she also recognized the hope that lit the villagers' eyes when they met her curious gaze. She could see in their faces that they believed in her, these people whom she had never met before, but who recognized her nonetheless. She was the Champion-come-again, and she had returned as promised to defend them.

At first, the children had been shy with her, their eyes wide with wonder as she spoke to them. But then Nari, the seven-year-old who they had rescued from the spidrens had approached her half-way through the dinner. "Mama says I am to thank you, Lady," she said, threading her small hand into Ana's. Her big, blue eyes peered shyly up at her through thick lashes. "You saved us from the monsters."

Ana grinned at the child, patting the bench next to her. Nari squeezed her little body into the space between her and Karma, wiggling until she was comfortable. "I took too big a piece of this delicious apple pie," Ana said, conspiratorially. "I don't think I can finish it all…would you like some, Nari?" The little girl nodded shyly, smiling from under her lashes. Ana pushed her plate over in front of her, and Karma provided a clean fork and napkin, snatching them from the empty place next to her.

Nari looked over at Ana, her eyes solemn, "Will you tell us a story about your adventures, Lady Ana?" she asked, tilting her head in an adorable manner. Ana realized that Nari wasn't the only one looking at her so, for there was now a small crowd of tiny faces staring up at her, their eyes imploring.

Ana blushed and stammered, "Karma is a much better story-teller." She waved a hand at her, "You should ask her to tell the tale of the Lioness and the Dragon."

A young boy with freckles shook his head, "We want to hear about _you_, Champion Ana."

Another boy, older, with hair like straw piped in, "Yeah! Tell us the story of how you won the Knighthood trials."

_Rumor travels quickly, _Ana thought. She felt her blush deepen as she realized that the audience had expanded beyond the children, and that most of the adults were listening in as well. She turned to Karma, sending her a silent plea.

Karma smiled a slow smile, and then said, "I can tell you the story of Ana, the Champion-come-again, and how she became a lady-knight, for I was there to see it happen."

The room had gone silent, as every one's attention focused on Karma. Ana felt a rush of gratitude for her friend, even as she flushed with embarrassment over the subject matter. "I saw her," Karma continued, "As she fought, and trialed and tested. I witnessed her swords flashing as she dueled and her silent meditation as she waited to enter the Chamber of the Ordeal."

Karma paused, looking around at the expectant faces. "I was there." She said.

"I too, was there," Came Lucas's steady, story-telling voice. "I was there when she first laid hands upon a sword, when she first sparred, and when she faced the King in the Final Duel. I witnessed her training and her triumph…I too, was there."

And so Ana had sat, listening to Karma and Lucas spin the tale, listening as her friends described what she had done from their perspectives, their observations, their witness. Lucas spoke of her experiments with sword-work and her efficient strategy during the Trials. Karma told of the Archery Trial, and of what it had been like to fight the Champion-come-again in a duel (Ana had no memory of fighting Karma, but she didn't doubt it had happened, for Karma described her style so precisely that her tale was impossible to disbelieve). It was a moving experience, for Ana was pleased and embarrassed to hear the pride in Lucas's voice as he narrated her feats, and the reverent edge to Karma's voice as she described the way Ana's hand had shot forward to snatch away Will's mask, even as he disarmed her.

After such an evening, it was impossible not to _revel_ just a little bit in her own accomplishments.

Ana grinned fiercely, savoring the moment, the feeling of being _alive_. It was a heady brew, the sweet air, the symphony of creatures great and small, the exhilaration of movement and the jolt of muscles moving.

She turned to where Karma rode beside her, and caught her friend's eye. They shared a silent agreement, though their lips did not move. Their horses slowed to a calmer walk, for they could see the light from the army's fires, and they would soon have to stop for the sentries.

Illieno came to meet them before they even hit the outer perimeter, resolving into a seemingly-riderless horse over the top of the nearest hill.

Ana smiled as she recognized Eclipse's bay glint in the light of the moon, and turned to Karma. "You know what?" She said, impulsively, "I would very much like to introduce Illieno to my brother."

Karma raised a dark eyebrow at her. "What prompted that random factoid?" she questioned, her voice amused.

Ana shrugged, watching as Eclipse disappeared again out of sight, dropping into a valley. "I just think that they would get along, that's all."

"Is this the same brother that came searching for you?" Karma asked, as they trotted forward.

Ana grinned at her, "You're a sharp one," she noted.

She and Karma had outrun Lucas and the dozen King's Own, but Ana thought she could hear the distant thunder that was their approach. She felt them all converging on a single spot and reigned Firedance in, suddenly a little dizzy.

The world shifted vertiginously and she saw herself, sitting calmly upon Firedance's back with Karma and Whisper a dark shadow behind her. She could see the long, white snake of the road, and the horse that ran toward her in one direction even as she saw Lucas and the Own converging from the other side.

In the distance, she could see the fires of the army of Tortall like little stars in the night, and a bigger star, like the sun, shining from the far side.

And then the rider-less horse pulled up in front of them, and Illieno appeared from nowhere.

Ana _snapped_ back into her body, trembling from the recoil of being back inside herself. The world spun around her in dizzy vortexes, and nausea writhed in her stomach.

"Ana! Are you okay?" Ana heard Karma's concerned voice, and then she felt a strong arms on her own, holding her up. "Mirthros, Ana, say something," said Illieno.

Ana opened her eyes, watching as the world settled back into steadiness. Illieno was peering at her from her left side, even as Karma frowned from her right. They each had a hand on her, holding her upright on Firedance's back.

She could hear the sound of hooves getting louder in the distance.

"I'm fine, guys." She said, trying to sound convincing. "I just got a little dizzy for a moment."

"I'll say," Illieno said dryly. "I thought you were going to pass out for a second there. You were white as a ghost."

"You can let go of me now," Ana prompted them, and felt their grips retreat.

"I haven't Seen you falling of Firedance in the near future," Karma said, with the tiniest of smiles, "Perhaps you'll make it."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Ana said, grinning at her, "Such great friends I have, I can tell you really care about me."

"Where have you guys _been_?" Illieno suddenly said, "Do you have any idea how much I've _missed you_ in the past few hours? Will is driving me absolutely loony with his manic pacing. I needed my girls."

Ana laughed at Illieno's petulant tone. "We've been having lots of fun without you," Ana said cheekily, "Heroic rescues, triumphant feasts…it's been a grand old time, but now its back to the grind."

"We missed you too, Illieno," Karma said. For a moment they all just grinned at each other, then Lucas and the Own were upon them.

"Ho!" Lucas called, "It's the Troublesome Three, united again."

Ana burst into giggles, even as Karma and Illieno laughed on either side of her. "As much as I love reunions," Illieno began, "I'm afraid this one will have to remove to a different location, for I'm under strict orders to bring y'all to Will's tent a.s.a.p."

He leaned in toward Ana, "That means as soon as possible."

She shoved him away, "I know, stupid," she said, making a face at him.

"Let us away," Karma said, gesturing grandly, "The future awaits."

Ana rolled her eyes, but turned Firedance's head in the direction Illieno indicated, leading the way as they rode to Will's summons.

She felt her good mood evaporating, eaten away at the edges by a niggling anxiety. Then she felt a rush of pride, and straightened her spine as she thought, _I have no reason to dread going before Will. I am the Champion of Tortall and I have proven myself worthy of the title in my deeds today. I will not cower before him, nor allow him to maneuver me like a chess piece. I know my place and I shall have it, as is my due. _

The ride was too short, for it gave her little time to prepare herself, to think of what to say to him.

She only knew that she had reached the end of her rope, and could no longer endure his fumbling attempts to placate and distract her. She wanted to know what was going on, so that she could make informed decisions about her place in the coming battle.

She wanted to know what it was that made him distant, that made him look away from her eyes.

All too soon, it seemed, she was ducking through the flap of the giant tent before the largest bonfire of all, her heart racing as she strode up to the place where he stood behind square table that graced the center of the tent. His palms were flat against the grainy wood as he leaned forward from his place in the middle of the far edge. The bulging tendons on his arms and the rigid, straight line of his spine gave away his impatience, though his face remained that infuriating neutral. She paused a few feet from the table, absurdly glad that it stood—a wooden barrier—between them.

She felt suddenly exposed as she knelt; suddenly naked, and a shiver ran down her spine as she realized that she was alone in the tent with him.

Her friends had abandoned her, at the very moment when she needed them to disappear. She wondered if that had been Illieno's doing, or Karma's…_or perhaps, _Ana thought, _Will ordered it be so. _It didn't really matter whose idea it had been, but the thought that Will had engineered it to be so nevertheless ignited the resentment that she had been holding at bay. _Is there no moment in my life that he does not plan? _She thought. _Have I no free will, but the will that Will deigns to grant me?_

She repeated the thought again, as she rose from her bow and looked him in the eye. He looked steadily back at her, his face inscrutable as he stared at her. She set her features and waited, refusing to give in to the impatient urge to cross her arms and tap her toe.

The silence stretched on between them, as they stood facing each other across the length of the table.

Finally Ana could bear it no longer.

"Have I done something wrong, your Majesty?" Ana asked, trying to keep the edge out of her tone.

"Excuse me?" Will asked, his voice rather hoarse. Was he _sweating?_ Ana frowned at him, wondering what he'd been doing before she barged in on him.

"Have I done some thing wrong?" She repeated, "Have I failed somehow in my duty, or deviated from your wishes as my King and sovereign?"

She gave in to the need to cross her arms, but kept her posture straight and firm.

For a second, Ana caught the started surprise in his eyes, then he frowned at her, his blue eyes worried as he lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his hair. Now that she looked, she could see that his black locks were already tousled, standing out from his head in wild curls.

"I do not know how you can have come to such a conclusion," he said quietly, "but I must assure you that you have risen above every expectation I might ever have had of you, Ana."

She glared at him, suddenly angry…though she could not quite name the cause.

"Then why?" Ana asked, "Why do you keep me in the dark? You name me Champion then ignore me—plotting and planning with everyone _but_ me." She shook her head, wishing she could keep the petulance from her voice. "Can't you bring yourself to trust me, Will?"

Will's mouth dropped open, but no words emerged. He seemed to struggle for a moment, then he said, very quietly. "I have always trusted you."

The anger snapped and drained away, replaced by another emotion, which swamped her senses with its power.

"You don't have to do everything yourself, you know," Ana said. She meant the words to come out quietly, gently, but the expression got all twisted on the way to her lips, and the words snapped resentfully off her tongue. And then they continued, sharp barbs which she did not direct, but which were infused with the _anger_ that filled her. "You may be King, but that does not mean it is _right_ that you use people the way you do. Who are you to maneuver us all in some grand game of chess that is above the comprehension of the lowly pawns? I've known Gods who give out more information about their strategy."

Will's jaw tightened as she spoke, and his brow creased into a dark frown. "I have only just decided my strategy," he said tersely, "I have already called a meeting of all of my advisors, so I may inform _all_ of you of my plans." He paused then, looking at her from under hooded eyes. "We were waiting only for your return to get started."

Ana felt that other emotion rise again in her chest, calming her. "That isn't what I meant," she said, quietly.

Will lifted his chin, looking her in the eye. For a moment his gaze searched hers, then he said, carefully, "What did you mean, Ana?"

What _did _ she mean?

She couldn't remember.

There _had _been something, right?

The seconds ticked by and Ana stood frozen, willing the words to come to her lips.

"Will—"

"Ana—"

They'd both spoken at the same time, and now they both drew back, hesitating. She looked at him and saw every detail of him in that moment, the way the lamplight cast dark shadows upon his strong features, the smooth lines of his body as he stood,, tall and firm, the blue fire of his eyes, which burned into hers with their intensity. She was caught, pinioned, by the power in that gaze, unable to summon the will to look away from those eyes.

The quiet clearing of a throat seemed loud in the silence, and Ana jumped, whirling around.

An extremely chagrinned Illieno stood with a beet red Lucas, as they took in the atmosphere. "I thought I should inform you that the generals are all assembled," he muttered, looking back and forth between them.

"But if you need a couple minutes to get ready we can come back," Illieno said, grinning at them.

Ana felt the blood rush to her face, but she managed to keep her voice smooth as she said, "We shouldn't keep them waiting."

Illieno snickered, and she glared at him, even as she heard Will say from behind her, "Send them in, Lucas, I am ready."

Was it her just her imagination, or did his words have a ring of prophecy, of finality? She turned back to look at him and found him looking at her. She straightened her spine and took her place next to him, at his right side, but she could not bring her eyes up to meet his, suddenly afraid that he would see the terror reflected in her eyes.

For with each step the tension between them rose, permeating the air with electric force that grew in exponential force to their proximity. She felt the return of the dizziness by the time she stood next to him, the blurring of her senses that had disoriented her so earlier.

But she planted her feet, planted herself in this world, in the solid, planed wood of the table-top, and took deep breaths, willing herself to patience as they waited for the story to unfold. She felt Will standing next to her, and felt steadied by his firm stance.

She wondered if he could feel tension that rent the atmosphere, or if she was the only one who felt _crushed_ as the tent filled with people, but she was not to know, for he spoke no word and made no movements toward her.

Ana found herself wishing that she had the courage to ask Will if he would hold her hand, and she bit her lip, blushing as she stared down at the table top. She traced senseless patterns into the wood of the table, sending her mind away as she waited.

~ ~:~ ~


	56. A Parting of the Ways

Chapter Fifty-four: A Parting of the Ways

Ana stood, hot and uncomfortable, at Will's right hand, her arms crossed and her shoulders tight with tension.

She stood on one side of a large table on which a giant map was spread. It was a marvelous piece of work, depicting every little nuance of the land called Tortall. It had obviously been added to and amended over the years, for there were many places where the pigments and styles of the rendering spoke of different hands.

The tent was stifling, filled, as it was, with grim-faced men. The air was full of electric tension, of uneasy expectation and gloom. A fly droned slowly around the tent, buzzing its annoying way among the men, who swatted it away absently. All of Will's closest advisors were gathered here, with his generals. Every one knew the reason for their meeting this evening and it showed on their faces. Lucas, at her right hand, glowered as he picked at ragged fingernail. The generals muttered quietly among themselves, pointing at various places on the map as they bantered in military lingo. From the shadows under their eyes and the lines creasing their foreheads, they didn't look like a happy lot. Only Tohmas was relaxed. He was actually sitting on the table, his legs folded over the ocean, as he meditated.

Even Illieno was visible, leaning tensely against one of the tent poles, his arms akimbo and a serious expression on his face.

"As you well know," Will began, his words measured as he addressed them all. "Our spies report that Li Dubyn and his army will come through the gap in the Grimwold Range, past the ruin of the City of the Gods."

He pointed to the place on the map where there was a break in the mountain range, and where the towers of a city were painted, next to a broad line which was the road through the mountains.

"It is our most vulnerable point and the easiest way to bring a large force through the mountains. We will have to cover all of the passes into Tortall in that area," Will said. "My plan is to send a group of archers and the Own into the City of the Gods, for the ruin overlooks the main passage through the Gap, and we can use the lay of the city to ambush them as they try to make their way through."

Ana frowned as Will spoke, his words awakening an uncomfortable sense of unease in her breast. Her eyes roved over the pointed peaks of the mountains that stood between Tortall and Scanra, noting the way they marched southeast across the top of the map to merge with the range labeled the Tusaine Mountains. The Drell River had its origin in those mountains, and she could see the way the blue line that represented the river snaked through the peaks and ridges before plunging south to where the Thaylian Outpost at Ithsma lay, marked in black ink.

Ana realized, to her horror and embarrassment, that her mind had wandered from Will's narration, distracted by the niggling anxiety that made her shift her weight back and forth restlessly. She snapped her attention back to Will, though she could not shake the feeling of _wrongness_ that welled up within her.

"If all goes our way," Will was saying, "we will be able to trap them in the pass and the city for a good length of time, where we will have the advantage in that they will not be able to overwhelm us in the close quarters of the streets. If not, we can easily retreat back to where most of our forces will be arrayed, on the plain before the mountains. There are a few minor passages that will need to be guarded against—I want at least two mages and a hundred men at every exit to the city. If we have enough time, we will do our best to plug any holes, so that Li Dubyn will be forced to funnel his forces through the routes we select."

Ana felt her mind begin to wander again, and she forced herself to listen to Will's words, reprimanding herself for letting her disquiet distract her from the important things that Will was saying. _You wanted to know what was going on, _she reminded herself, _now would be a good time to pay attention. _

"Illieno and I will lead the forces in the City," Will said, looking around. "We will take the Own and our best archers as well as a good number of mages. The rest of the army will array itself across the plain, behind as many protective spells and earthworks as we can conjure in the time gifted to us, for when Li Dubyn inevitably breaks through our defenses."

"Ana." He said. Ana tore her eyes away from the map of Tortall and looked at him. "You and Harrison will lead the archers and mages that I want sent up the sides of the mountains, to rain arrows and destruction down from the mountain sides. From there you will have a vantage point of the entire battle, and can relay to the other mages where reinforcements will be needed. "

Ana's inexplicable agitation roared to a crescendo at that pronouncement. "I should be in the City with you and Illieno," she said suddenly, her protest slipping out before she considered the consequences of her objection. She swallowed as she saw Will's brow furrow, but ploughed on nonetheless, "As Champion I should be fighting at your side, not watchingyou fight from a distance."

Will scowled at her, but Ana set her jaw and met his stare with her own. She could feel the eyes of the generals on her, and she blushed suddenly, feeling that they were judging her for her words. She wondered if they thought her impertinent.

"As Champion," Will said quietly, yet his voice was hard with command, "You will go where I tell you to go and fight where I tell you to fight. Your prowess in archery and your Gift will be best employed on the ledges above the City of the Gods, so I say you shall fight there."

Ana couldn't help the words that spilled from her lips, though she wished to take them back immediately after she spoke them, for they only made Will's face darken further. "My abilities would be just as aptly employed in the city," she rejoined.

"No." Will's order was harsh in its finality. He looked around at the commanders gathered around the table, his gaze sharp with anger. "Does anyone else wish to object to my strategy thus far?" He asked, icily. The silence of the men was all the answer he needed, and he continued describing his plans, directing his generals individually as to their positions in the forthcoming battle as he pointedly ignored her glare.

Ana scowled down at the place on the map where the City of the Gods was painted next to the gap in the Grimwold Mountains. She felt her anger and resentment turning her vision hazy as she simmered. She _hated_ the way he just ordered her about, ignoring her wishes. She _knew_ that she was right, that as Champion she should be fighting at the vanguard, not cowering on the sidelines.

Her anger increased with her growing sense of unease. She glowered at the map, resisting her body's desire to twitch and fidget, and found her eyes drawn to a place just east of where the Drell spilled forth from the mountains, where there was a small illustration of another gap between the peaks, with the label 'the Gateway to the North'.

She stared at the map, her eyes moving from the second pass through the mountains south to where Ithsma lay alongside the Drell. Her gaze fell on the bridge that was depicted there, in precise little strokes that spanned the twining blue line of the river.

Will's words were swallowed by a roaring noise that filled her ears and her mind, and the world suddenly shifted vertiginously as a vision took hold of her.

_A single rider stood before the closed gates of the garrison at Ithsma, a slender pole with a white bit of fabric tied to it clenched tightly in his right hand. The rider sat quietly contemplating the battlements, where men patrolled with matchlocks at their sides. They did not seem to notice the rider and his red roan, even though their watchful eyes passed over the place where they stood, clearly visible, in the morning sunlight. _

Ana blinked, and the map of Tortall resolved itself again before her eyes. She stared at the bridge and the painting of the town that lay next to it for a moment, then she looked up from the map, startled to see the commanders filing out of the King's tent. Will must have finished his briefing, then, while her attention was diverted. Ana steeled herself as she watched the tent slowly empty, knowing what she had to do, but dreading it just the same. Lucas and Illieno were the last to go, but Ana waited until they were outside before she turned to Will.

"Will," she said urgently. "What about the bridge at Ithsma?" She pointed at the map. "Li Dubyn could easily send another force east, to make their way through the Gate to the North and across the bridge at Ithsma. They would come up behind us and we would be cut off—crushed between the two forces."

Will shook his head. His dark hair was already tousled from the multiple times he'd run his hands through it and it bounced crazily. "My spies haven't seen any forces moving in Scanra save the one. How could Li Dubyn split his forces without our noticing?"

Ana drew in a ragged breath. "How certain can you really be of your spies?" she asked quietly. "I trust Illieno with my life, but those same spies once worked beneath Ma…your previous Spymaster."

Will gave her a hard look, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Illieno has assured me that he has rooted out all of the traitors among us. I trust him to do his job, as should you."

"Perhaps your spies are mistaken," Ana fumbled. She could not say why, but she knew—and she had learned to trust her instincts—that Will was overlooking something. "Perhaps they were deceived by magic…"

"Enough." Will snapped. "Let the Scanrans take the Thaylian outpost. I'm sure it will be an enlightening experience for both of them."

Ana stared at him, horrified by his insensitive remarks. Thinking of Marghi and her Mother she straightened her spine, lifting her head imperially. "I _cannot_ allow that," she said in a quiet tone that nevertheless rang with authority. "I cannot allow my people to be slaughtered without even giving them warning enough to defend themselves."

"Your people?" Will asked, his face grim. "Are you only Thaylian then? Have you forgotten the Tortallian Gift in your blood?"

"I could not forget it even if I wanted to!" Ana cried. "I am constantly reminded of my mixed blood." Her voice rose in volume as she continued, "I am the child of two very different worlds, torn between the upbringing of my mother and the legacy of my father!"

"Yes," Will said, with quiet rancor. "Who could forget your mother, the Empress?"

Ana's eyes widened, the breath leaving her lungs all at once as she gasped.

"You know," she whispered, "You know who I am."

Will turned his back to her, shrugging his shoulders. "There were clues enough, for any who cared to look for them."

"How long have you known?" she asked.

Will answered casually, his back still to her. "I suspected as much when I brought you here, but I trusted that the Thaylians would assume you had wandered off into the desert and died. They had no reason to suspect Tortall's involvement…and you would have died soon enough anyway." He turned to look at her, and his sapphire eyes were hard and unmoving. "You are only alive today because I took you in."

Ana stared at him, her astonishment transmuting instantly to anger.

"How dare you?" she hissed, glaring at him. "How _dare_ you hold that over my head?" Her voice rose and cracked as the words that she had so long kept inside rushed out in an angry torrent. "Yes! Yes, you and your people have given me so much…but I never asked for _any _of it! I never asked for you to steal me from the bed where I slept, nor did I _ask_ to be born with this precious Gift of yours. I never _wanted _to be heir to your Lioness. I never asked to follow in her footsteps and take up her mantle as lady knight and Champion. _Never once_ did you ask me whether or not this was what I wanted—always, _always, _you thought only of yourself and your people!"

"Would you rather have had me leave you to die among the Thaylians?" Will yelled back at her.

"I was content to die." Ana snapped, trembling from the anger that pulsed through her veins. "I was content to die, but even that comfort you stole from me when you stole me from Thaylia." She shook her head, her hair whipping around her. "I have never asked you for anything, Will," she said, the quiet words fused with her fury. "I have never asked for anything save this one thing: send a messenger to Ithsma to warn them of the danger from Scanra."

"And who would carry a message to the Thaylians?" Will snapped back, his words biting into her. "You and I are the only people in this camp who speak any Thaylian at all—and I, for one, am needed here, where there is a _real_ battle to be fought."

"How can you ignore the threat that the bridge at Ithsma presents?" She cried, unable to help herself. "How can you deny my request—knowing what you know about me?"

Will's cold, hard eyes stared back at her, his face chiseled from stone. "If you care more about those miserable Thaylians in Ithsma than the Tortallians you are bound to protect as Champion," he hissed, "then by all means, take the message yourself."

Ana's eyes filled with tears as she stared at him, not quite believing the words she had heard him say, even as her body reacted to the stinging wounds they inflicted.

She whirled, rushing out of the tent. Her eyes were blurred by tears, her mind churning with confused thoughts that blinded her to her surroundings. She did not even notice as she brushed past Lucas and Illieno, who watched her go with troubled faces.

~:~

Illieno watched Ana rush off into the camp, his brow furrowed. He turned to look at Lucas and found the same troubled expression reflected on the Lord Commander's face as the one on his own. They had heard every word of Ana and the King's conversation—it had been impossible not to—and their fight was an ominous thing, here on the eve of the greatest battle Tortall had seen in many years.

Illieno felt his own anger bubbling to the surface as he threw back the flap and stepped into the King's tent. Will stood, the muscles of his back tense, staring at the map of Tortall.

"What have you done?" Illieno cried. "Why could you not listen to her request?"

Will looked over at him, his face dangerous. "I have not the time nor energy to waste on foolish requests," he snapped, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "I have enough to deal with here, where there is a real battle to be fought, without adding in imaginary threats dreamed up by a paranoid Thaylian."

"Ana's concern is warranted," Lucas broke in quietly. "Can you blame her for wanting to protect the people she grew up with? The people that her Mother protects as Empress?"

Will shook his head, his anger making his movements jerky. "She would have had to choose between Thaylia and Tortall eventually," he muttered.

"Choice!" Illieno exclaimed. "What _choice_ did you give her? Either way she is a traitor, either to her mother's land or her father's."

"Then she will have to decide which she cares about more," Will snapped.

"You foolish, stubborn, _headstrong_ man!" Illieno yelled, his anger getting the better of him. His fists clenched at his sides, itching to pummel the King who had just thrown away his country's greatest hope. "Go after her! Apologize! Tell her that you will send someone to Ithsma…"

"No." Will's voice was as hard as stone and sharp as flint. "Go after her yourself. I will not be cowed into groveling at the feet of some half-Tortallian, half-Thaylian mongrel. I am the King of Tortall. My duty is to safe-guard the people of Tortall, not to warn the Thaylians of every possible threat to the size of their borders."

"Are the Thaylians any less human than Tortallians?" Illieno rejoined. "Will they die any less easily beneath the swords of the Scanran horde? Goddess, Will, _listen to yourself!_" He met the hard gaze of his King, and suddenly he understood—as Will in his anger could not—the real reason for his stubbornness on the subject.

"Mithros," Illieno swore. "This has nothing to do with Tortall, does it?"

A flash of surprise crossed Will's face, but then his glower returned. "What are you talking about?"

Illieno looked up at his King, his anger draining away. In its place came a great sadness. "It has nothing to do with Tortall," he repeated, "and everything to do with your own frustrated feelings about a certain Thaylian _mongrel_." He shook his head, sad that Will would go to such extremes to discover where Ana's loyalties lay. _And all he succeeded in doing was pushing her away. _"You will never win her love by disparaging half of her heritage," he finished quietly.

For a long minute, Illieno was certain that Will's temper would blind him to the truths that he told, but then his expression slipped and Illieno saw through his friend's mask. For a moment, Will's heart was naked on his face, his features that of a man torn between terror at losing the one he loved, frustration at his own inability to articulate his feelings, and uncertainty about whether or not those feelings were reciprocated. _She loves you_, Illieno thought, _everyone can see it but you._

But the moment passed and Will's disciplined mask snapped back into place. He turned his hard eyes to Illieno and said coldly, "I would thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Illieno. It matters not to me what Ana chooses to do with her life. We have more important issues to address."

_Liar_. Illieno thought. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lucas looking just as doubtful, but neither of them said anything. They both knew it was futile to argue with their King right now, the wound was still too fresh.

Instead, Illieno said, "Fine. If you have not the courage to go after her, then I will." He turned on his heel and strode out of the tent, uncaring whether or not Will followed. He made his way directly through the camp, to where his tent was set up next to Ana's and Lucas's. The fire they had built earlier had burned down to embers, but the moon was bright enough that he could clearly see the empty void where Ana's saddlebags had been. He sighed, looking up at the picket of horses, already knowing that Firedance was no longer tethered there, between Eclipse and Fleetfoot.

He turned from the horses to find Will standing behind him. His friend stared at the remnants of the fire, his face devoid of emotion. Then he frowned, and bent to pick up something that lay next to the glowing embers. In his hand glittered the necklace that the Lioness had given to Ana, the red stone winking in the moonlight.

Will's mask slipped again, his expression suddenly stricken, and Illieno realized that Will had not truly believed that Ana would leave him and Tortall. Illieno watched as his best friend finally comprehended the true consequences of his actions; he watched as Will's anger shattered beneath the grief that flooded his sapphire eyes. Will looked up at Illieno, a plea in his eyes. "Keep her safe," he whispered, his voice broken.

Illieno nodded. "I will protect her life with my own," he said solemnly.

~:~

Illieno ducked into his tent—to grab a few necessary items for the journey—and froze when he saw that it was already occupied.

Karma sat on the floor next to his packed saddlebags, cradling a little carved box in her lap. Tears made streams down her cheeks as she looked up at him, her big, brown eyes brimming over with emotion.

Illieno knelt in front of her, reaching forward to wipe away her tears. "I'm going to follow her," Illieno said, "You should come with me. I'm sure Ana would welcome your company on her journey."

Karma shook her head slowly, "My path lies another way," she said her words full of certainty. "But I came to give you this box, for in her haste Ana left it behind, and she will need it if she is to prevail in this struggle." She held the box up to him, her eyes grave with knowledge. "She must solve the puzzle of the box before the night of the full moon, or all will be lost."

Illieno blew out his cheeks. The full moon was three nights away. "So no pressure, or anything," he muttered.

Karma's tear drenched face split suddenly into a smile. "The box was made for her, it will open for her if she can discover the key," she said. "Aid her however you can, Illieno, for if Ana opens the box the possible futures become much, _much _brighter."

Illieno raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Got any other advice for me?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "When the lightning strikes and the rain falls upward do not hesitate, but seek help in the large stone building next to a swollen river."

"The Thaylian Outpost?" Illieno asked. "Where Ana came from?"

Karma shrugged. "Possibly. I do not know what the place is, or why you will need help, but I know that you must not hesitate."

Illieno nodded, bending to pick up his saddlebags. "I won't," he said. "And I swear that I will do everything in my power to bring her back, provided events go our way and we are all still alive in two weeks time."

A slow, sly smile crept across Karma's face. "They just may go our way," she said, looking down at her hands.

Illieno bent down to put his hand on her shoulder. "I will take it to mean that we _do _have a chance, which is comforting…but it is tempered by the knowledge that it is still a chance, and not a certainty. Nevertheless, I shall have the audacity to hope that luck might just be on _our_ side."

Karma nodded. "May the Goddess grant you speed, and the Trickster loan you luck," she whispered. "Go now, go now and protect her, as I shall protect him."

Illieno smiled, but his eyes were serious. "I only go because I know that I leave him in capable hands," he said.

Karma inclined her head in solemn acknowledgement, and he ducked out of the tent, his steps certain as he made his way to where Eclipse was tethered. His horse watched him approach, his dark eyes alert and understanding. He did not so much as flick an ear when Illieno set his saddle on his back; Eclipse knew as well as he that there was a journey of unknown duration ahead of them.

~ ~:~ ~


	57. Moonlit Ride

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Thank you SO MUCH for all of the reviews! I'm sorry to post another one of those interim sort of chapters, but I thought it was too cruel to leave you all hanging in such a spot. Once again, there is going to be a bit of a hiatus between updates. ATM I'm preparing to leave on a college-touring adventure and I won't have access to the internets for a couple weeks. But I SWEAR to write while I'm road tripping, so I can update as soon as I get back :)

With Love,

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifty-six: Moonlit Ride

Firedance flew through the night, the ground disappearing beneath the steady rhythm of her hooves. The moonlit landscape blurred with her speed, but Firedance did not hesitate in her galloping strides. Distantly, Ana knew that she should not push Firedance so hard. The moon was high and bright in the sky, the hill country they ran through was relatively free of dangerous rocks and only sparsely wooded, but Firedance could not keep up such a pace over a long distance and there were still many leagues to travel before morning.

But right now Ana needed to move, to run, to let the air wash over her face. She leaned low across Firedance's back, her hair streaming out behind her, trying to lose herself in the rhythm of riding. She did not want to think of what she was riding to and what she was leaving behind. She did not want to think at all.

It was a futile effort.

Her mind churned with conflicting emotions, each fighting for dominance. She had never known that it was possible to feel so many different things at once. Anger…fear…hurt…sorrow…how could they all exist simultaneously? How was it possible to love and hate? To mock and pity? To respect and scorn?

Tears streamed down her face, making a wet trail across her cheeks.

_Will's cold, hard eyes stared at her, his face chiseled from stone. "If you care more about those miserable Thaylians in Ithsma than the Tortallians you are bound to protect as Champion," he hissed, "then by all means, take the message yourself."_

Her anger bubbled to the surface of her thoughts as the memory flitted through her mind, but it burst and drained away, leaving behind a terrible pain. It was almost physical, that pain, a throbbing ache in her gut. It went along nicely with her queasy stomach and streaming eyes.

_Broken_, she thought. _I am broken. I have been rent apart by my split loyalties. _

She wondered if she would be able to piece herself together enough to do what she had set out to do.

She had made her choice—she couldn't go back now.

So she rode on into the night and did not slow until the moon had set beneath the western hills. Her destination lay to the southeast, through the hills and into the desert. She wished she knew how long it would take to get there, for time was very short, and it was unbearable to think that she might arrive too late.

Finally, when it became too dangerous to ride anymore, Ana reigned in Firedance next to a small tributary stream that would eventually join up with the River Olorun. She lifted the saddle from Firedance's back, then turned her free so she could drink from the stream and rest from their ride. She did not bother with starting a fire; they would be riding again in a few hours, when the sun rose.

She knew that she should rest while she had the time, but her mind was too busy for sleep. Instead she settled down on her bedroll, wrapping a blanket around her, and tried to empty her mind of thoughts. …

Ana's head jerked up, her meditation shattered by the sound of hooves approaching in the distance. She stumbled to her feet, her heart leaping into her throat.

He'd sent someone after her.

Ana looked around frantically for a place to hide, but she and Firedance were very exposed by the little stream. The slim birches that populated the little wood where they'd stopped offered no protection. There was no place to hide and no time to hide in.

So she threw back her head and straightened her spine, reaching behind her to make sure Naethus and Thunder were clear in their sheaths. Her Gift pulsed at the edges of her consciousness, ready for whatever she might need it for.

Firedance did not share in her mistress's tension; she stood relaxed by Ana's left shoulder, her ears perked as she listened to the sound of the approaching horse.

The sound rose to a crescendo as a single rider crested the hill before her. He cried out when he spotted her and she braced herself. The rider and his horse were only deeper shadows moving across the landscape, their identities masked by the dark night. She wondered who he had sent. _If he thinks that it will only take one person to bring me back then he has another think coming, _she thought indignantly. She would not surrender…not even if it was him...

What if it was him?

Hope—warm, rich, unwanted hope swamped her senses, startling her with its ferocity. But it flickered and died as the horse pulled up fast in front of her and she saw that the stallion was bay, not black.

The rider sprang from the stallion's back, even before he had stopped prancing.

"Ana!" He cried, and she knew who it was he had sent.

"Did he send you after me, Illieno?" Ana asked. Her voice trembled, but she hoped that he would think it was from anger and not the disappointment which threatened to overwhelm her. "You can't make me go back," she said, "I'll fight you if I have to."

Illieno strode closer to her, leading Eclipse to the stream so that he could drink. "I'm not here to bring you back," he said, "I'm here to help you."

Ana stared at him, completely taken aback.

"But…" she stammered, "Why?"

Illieno looked at her sharply, his face serious. "I may not have known you very long, Ana, but I've come to trust you and whatever—or whoever—it is that guides you. If you say that the bridge at the Thaylian outpost is a threat to Tortall…well, then I believe you."

"But your spies have said nothing about Li Dubyn splitting his forces…"

Illieno shook his head. "My spies are not infallible," he said. He dropped his gaze, studying the ground at his feet. "And though I don't usually subscribe to superstition…I too have been ridden by the most awful feeling that we have overlooked something. For the last few weeks I've felt the tug of…something. Something that compels me to ride east." He looked up at her. "The fact that you—you who have the blessing of the Gods and the aid of the Lioness—have had the same feeling makes me think that we _have_ overlooked something. Something important.

"And I," he continued, "unlike _some_ I could name, have not any unruly hormones to get in the way of me letting you do what you need to."

It was Ana's turn to shake her head. "Go back, Illieno," she said, "He…they need you. You are the Spymaster."

Illieno frowned. "No one will miss me," he said. "My job was pretty much moot at this point anyway. All of my spies are either dead or riding with the army. We already know all we could learn about the Scanrans."

"But," Ana whispered, unable to stop herself, "you are supposed to be his protection."

Illieno crossed his arms. "I _am_ protecting him," he said, gently, "I'm protecting his heart."

Ana stared at the ground, her brow furrowed. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Tortall might also miss its Champion, though the thought was foremost in both of their minds.

"You are just going to have to get used to me," Illieno said, throwing her a cocky grin, "because I'm going to follow you whether you want me to or not."

Ana sighed.

~:~

They rested for a few hours and rose to ride again when the world was still gray in its predawn stillness. They ate their breakfasts in the saddle, as the landscape disappeared beneath the steady gaits of Firedance and Eclipse. Firedance was thrilled at the swifter pace of this journey, for the army's pace had been a slow one for her, and she had longed to stretch out her legs. Ana set her mind on enjoying the ride, on the feeling of Firedance moving beneath her and the feeling of the wind and the world whipping past her. She turned her face to the sun and breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet air of morning.

She did not have to think twice about which way to point Firedance's head, for she could feel the pull of her destination, like a hook through her navel that was drawing her south and east.

Illieno and Eclipse kept pace beside them, only a couple of strides away, but they did not speak as they rode, each occupied with their own thoughts.

They stopped only when the sun had made its journey all the way across the sky and made a small camp at the edge of the hills that overlooked the desert. Illieno disappeared for a time, then reappeared with a small pot of water, which he hung over the fire Ana had conjured with her Gift and the green kindling she'd scrounged up. The moon ascended into the sky above them, lighting the landscape with its pale face. It was nearly full, and glowed brightly enough to fill the land with shadows.

They sat silently for a time, waiting for the stew to finish cooking (Illieno had been thoughtful enough to remember to bring _food_, which had shown him to have more foresight than Ana. She only had a few packets of salted meat and some of the hard little biscuits that the King's Own called 'hardtack' buried in her saddlebags, so she was grateful that Illieno had provided for them both.)

Illieno was looking up at the moon, his brow furrowed. Then he abruptly stood up, striding over where his packs lay strewn next to Eclipse's tether. Ana looked curiously on as he fumbled through them, mystified as to the reason for his sudden foray into his saddle bags.

He must have found what he was looking for, for he straightened, winking as he made his way back to the fire.

"I talked to Karma before I left," he informed her. His hands obscured the shape of the object he held in his hands, and Ana felt her curiosity morph into frustration as she looked back up into his green eyes. "She says that you forgot this," he said, lifting his left hand away to reveal a rectangular little box, covered in ruins.

Ana hissed through her teeth as she recognized the carved box. She had thrust it out of her sight and out of her mind, burying it away in one of her lesser used trunks. The sight of the unintelligible ruins never failed to bring back all the memories of the cheerful housekeeper who had died so that she could have it. She felt a lump rise in her throat as she realized that she had left the box in her rooms in Corus. Karma must have Seen where she'd hidden it…

She looked up at Illieno, to find his eyes locked on her and his face curious.

Ana remembered the letter that had come with that little box, Doris O'Brian's last words and wishes.

Her hands moved automatically to take it from him, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude toward her friends. _Doris gave her life so that I could have this, _she thought, _I must not fail in her trust. Karma Saw that I would need it, and Illieno brought it to me. I must not fail in their trust, nor ignore any longer this gift._

Illieno held it just out of her reach, his eyebrow quirked as he gave her an ironic grin, "She says that you need to solve the mystery of the box before the full moon."

Ana sighed, as she snatched the little box from Illieno's grip. She ran her fingers over the carved wood, mentally prodding it with her Gift, but nothing extraordinary happened. She held it up to her eyes, peering at the ruins, but they remained stubbornly illegible, giving her no clue as to how the little box might open.

She looked over at Illieno.

"Got any ideas?" she asked.

~ ~:~ ~


	58. Threads of Destiny

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Wow. What an adventure life has been since we've last met! Road trips, college tours, crazy fourth of July celebrations, whirl-wind romances, theatrical nightmares (never, NEVER, say the name of the Scottish play in a theater), getting picked up by drug dealers, the inner worlds of homeless people, getting lost along obscure country backroads....ah, life. There really is something new to learn every day. And it is true what they say--everyone, EVERYONE, has a story. I have decided it is my lot in life to write them down. :)

Unfortunately, it means I have been neglecting you all. Looking at the calender today, I can't believe I haven't been on the internet in almost a month. Checked my email and WHOA. I guess I am more popular than I had previously imagined. Of course, Facebook seems to be my most ardent admirer, so I'm not that flattered, but still. Anyway, with the return of my computer (long story short--Della and I became estranged, but we have since patched things up and our relationship is running smoothly once more) I feverishly churned out the next installment so I could get it to you as quickly as possible. There is another interlude that is supposed to happen at the end of this chapter, but I seem to have misplaced my notes for it at the moment, and I don't want to delay posting this any longer, so it will have to go at the beginning of the next chapter.

Thank you for your patience and your continuing reviews. I'm gonna go look at them right now, but I figured it was more important to answer your need for another chapter than to answer any questions or comments you might have left me in the haitus.

Lots of Love,

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifty-seven: Threads of Destiny

Karma shifted her weight back and forth as she waited impatiently before the King's tent. She was relieved that she had been granted an audience with Will—not the easiest task under any circumstance and even more tenuous these days—but her relief was overshadowed by anxiety for the coming interview. Since Ana's departure two nights ago, the King had been in a dark and turbulent mood—everyone stepped softly around him, wary of igniting his temper. The official story was that Will had sent Ana and Illieno away on a secret mission, but it could not stop the rumors ran rampant through the camp. Karma did her best to suppress the rumors when she overheard them, for the men were well aware of her close relationship with Ana, but she could see the doubt in their eyes when she denied that a rift had sprung up between the King and his Champion.

Her fingers twitched as she repressed the urge to fiddle with her long braid. She had avoided Will these past days, because of the way his face darkened and his jaw clenched when he saw her. She knew that the sight of her only served to remind him of what they had lost…but she also knew that it was vital that she speak to him. He needed her, though he did not yet know just how _much_ he needed her. She could no longer afford to keep her information to herself. Her rational mind reminded her that the King would listen to her requests and that she had no reason to dread meeting with him, but the long hours of waiting only increased her nervous apprehension.

Finally, a tall, grim-faced man with a nose warped and crooked from being broken multiple times exited the King's tent, flanked by a pair of heavily-muscled flunkies. Their faces were scarred and pitted with experience, and between them they wore enough weapons on their persons to outfit a small army. They were clearly familiar with fighting, for they moved with the efficient grace of those used to struggle.

Karma cringed away from them as they passed, her Sight giving her an unexpected glimpse into these men's futures. The images were violent and bloody, and she felt her anxiety rise to fever-pitch as she saw that only one of these men—the man on the left, who scowled out at the world from behind eyes mottled with fading bruises—would make it though the next few days alive.

She inhaled deeply through her nose as the honor guard waved her though. She pushed aside the bleak thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her, steeling herself as she ducked through the tent flap. She ran over what she had to say to Will once more for good measure.

Then she was bowing automatically before him. She could feel his stern gaze on the back of her neck as she knelt, and she held her breath as she looked up at him.

The King's eyes bored into her, his eyes burning bright with their blue fire, and she Saw him raise his sword up high in a silhouette, glowing with sapphire light as a storm broke all around him, even as she saw his jaw tighten as he nodded at her.

"You asked to see me?" He said, and his voice was calm, measured in its question.

She remained kneeling, though she met his gaze firmly, trying to channel Ana's strength lest she flinch away from the pain she saw in her King's eyes. "I have vital information about the forthcoming battle," she said, going directly into her point.

Will folded his arms. "Illieno informed me that you are a Seer of some strength," he said, "He also informed me that your vision had been clouded, and that you could not say what the future would bring for certain." Karma heard in his voice that he did not blame her for the associations she brought to mind, and she felt her nervousness fade away. She stood, straightening her spine as she nodded.

"My visions have been very hazy until recently," she said, "It has only been in the last couple of days that I've been able to See anything clearly, but now my Sight has shown me much." She looked firmly into Will's face, willing him to believe her, "I have seen the battle, and I know how it must unfold, how we must act if we are to turn back the tide." Karma felt the words fall off her tongue with practiced ease, and forced herself not to blink and give the lie away.

"What have you Seen?" came another voice, and, for the first time, Karma registered that Lucas stood beside the King, his face stern as he scowled at her. She felt suddenly ashamed that she had not come to them earlier, to tell them everything she knew as was her duty as knight and citizen of Tortall. But she did not blush nor hang her head, because she was fulfilling her duty now, and she could not turn back or hesitate.

"Your plan is a good one," she said to Will, "it needs only a few alterations to be perfect."

For the first time, Will's neutral mask broke, and he smiled at her, his voice amused as he said, "And what alterations might you suggest?"

She smiled inwardly as she explained what they needed to do—what Will needed to _let_ her do. She knew that this was the right move, the right path. She knew he would agree. He had to.

"That is the second good suggestion I've heard tonight," Lucas put in, his serious façade shattered as he grinned at her approvingly. "Do you think you could pull it off?" He asked her, point-blank. "It is not an easy role you've slated for yourself."

"I can do it." Karma said, with all of the conviction she could summon. "I have Seen myself do it."

"Then it is already done." Will said.

Karma blushed beneath the King's stare, ashamed of her audacity. For a moment she battled with herself, wondering if she had the courage to explore her new status. "What was the other good suggestion?" she asked Lucas, curiosity winning out over discretion.

It was Will, however, who answered. "The King of Thieves suggested that he and his men fight in the City of the Gods, for they are used to the close quarters of buildings and might even be able to booby-trap parts of the ruin if we have time enough to prepare. It was a sensible suggestion, so I had no trouble incorporating it into my plans." He paused, and Karma gulped, wondering if she'd been too confident. Perhaps the sheer nerve of her plan was too reminiscent of Ana, or Illieno, and his pain or his anger would overcome his rational mind. "I can see the wisdom of your plan," Will said, and Karma let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding. "Though I do not like to put you at such risk."

"We all must take risks, if we are to succeed," Karma said quietly, resisting the urge to clench her right fist. She must remain calm and firm. "It is all falling into place…all of the right pieces." She said, hoping she could convince him, and perhaps alleviate some of Will's worrisome burdens. "We can _win_ this if we work together, and trust each other do our part."

Will's eyes sparkled looked at her. "You should be a politician," he said, and Karma was amazed to hear _humor_ in his voice, "You have a very convincing rhetoric."

_We _can _do this,_ Karma thought, looking at Will, her King. _I will do my part for you, Ana, _she thought, _and for Illieno too. But most of all, I shall do it for Tortall. _

~:~

Ana stared up at the bulging face of the moon; her hands automatically brushing over the smooth contours of the runes that covered the little box. Her fingertips could sense no break in the grain of the wood, no seam that might betray a way inside. The only clue was the runes, which were carved over the entire surface in curving strokes that _seemed _meaningful, though Ana could not begin to imagine the significance of the patterns.

She had already examined the box from all sides, but was as of yet unable to decide which was the top and which was the bottom. She flipped it over in her hands constantly, peering at the carvings like she could decipher them if she only looked closely enough. She held it up, so that the light—whether it be from the sun or moon—could shine down on the surface. She'd noticed that in the sunlight the box almost seemed to glitter, as if it were coated with a shiny lacquer. It was a beautiful piece of work, for the runes had been carved to incorporate the dark grain of the wood.

In the center of both the top and the bottom, a knot in the wood had been turned into a glyph larger than the rest. If she squinted her eyes and cocked her head at an angle, those squiggly lines that radiated from the circular spiral that was the focal point of one side _might have _been the rays of the sun, but if she looked at it from another angle it looked more like a flower. The other side had a similar circle, though it was slightly altered, so that the rings made it look like the waning phases of the moon—if viewed in moonlight, when the white light glittered off the rings and the runes cast shadows that made them _almost_ look like clouds.

It _felt _like the box had been carved from one solid piece of wood, but when she rapped her knuckles against it the wood rang with a hallow echo—and Ana had heard, at the very edges of her hearing, a ringing like bells.

She had held the box in her lap, closing her eyes as she reached for it with her mind and her Gift, testing it to see if there were any spells worked into the wood. The box seemed to absorb her mental prods and her magic, but if it was spelled then it was shielded with a power she could not detect.

No matter how she poked and prodded it, she could not determine how it opened.

And, in the mean time, the sun and the moon continued their relentless march across the sky, even as they continued their steady march across the desert. They stopped only to water themselves and their horses, and Ana would draw water from the reserves deep beneath the hard soil and desert scrub with her Gift, grateful that Tohmas had taught her the handy little trick. They halted when the sun set, eating their dinner as the blue of day faded in the sky and the stars revealed their glittering faces.

Sometimes they talked, and the little carved box was a frequent topic of conversation. They pondered over the box, postulating about the horn rumored to lie inside and how they might discover 'the key' to opening the box. Ana told Illieno what she remembered of Doris's letter, that the housekeeper had seen the Lioness in a dream and that Alanna had told her of the prophecy that had prompted the Seven to make such an object to be passed down through her family. They also mulled over Karma's words, smiling fondly as they joked about their friend's enjoyment in being cryptic. But they soon fell silent again, for Karma's words had been a warning, and they could not forget that the full moon was only a night away.

They'd stopped early that night, by unspoken consent, for they could not help but be worn out after two days of straining their minds on the matter. Ana threw herself into the riddle of the box, glad to have been granted such a distraction from everything that she did not want to think about. She did not think about where they rode, did not think about where they rode from and what they were leaving behind. She let the mystery of the box consume her, but it could not take her away from her troubles. It was a frustrating distraction, for with every passing hour Ana felt the time slipping away from her.

She needed to solve the mystery of the box before tomorrow eve or all would be lost, Karma had said, and she had no idea how to solve it. She felt the return of her jittery restlessness, and the creeping hopelessness that niggled at her consciousness. She fought it by doing everything she could think of, announcing to it that she was the Champion-come-again, and asking if it would _please_ open up for her? She held conversations with the box, asking if it needed this or that, and if it was comfortable residing in the place between her legs and the folds of her blankets as she sat cross-legged on the desert sand.

Illieno joined in the conversations, interjecting with his usual sly wit as he treated the box like an obstinate traveling companion refusing to share a juicy bit of gossip. He took his turn tracing the carvings and peering at the runes, handing it back to her with a noncommittal shrug. "Looks like woody here is determined to keep her secrets," he said lightly, but Ana could hear the undercurrent of frustration in his voice.

At Illieno's suggestion, she had even licked it, but the little box tasted only of wood and Ana's sweat, for it had seldom left her hands even as they rode. In her desperation, she even wished for divine intervention—the kind of miracle that the Thaylian priests of her homeland promised to the faithful. She wanted a sign, a symbol, some signal that what she did…what she had done…was right.

Ana sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she stared up at the bright moon that lit the desolate landscape.

She blinked, for clouds had rolled across the sky, unnoticed by her as she turned her attention to the box. They crept toward the moon, their wispy folds curling almost like letters as they obscured the stars. The clouds seemed to be reaching toward them, and Ana realized, with a start, that it looked like the clouds were rolling across the flat expanse of the desert from the northern horizon.

She gasped aloud, grabbing Illieno's arm as she pointed with her other hand. "Am I imagining things or is that _fog_ coming toward us?"

Ana felt Illieno start beneath her tight fingers as he turned his eyes to the north. "That cannot be natural," he whispered. Ana felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as she heard the fear in his voice, and sweat broke out on her brow as she turned her head and saw that the fog had crept up behind them as well.

In fact, it was everywhere now.

The world went white around them as the heavy mist descended. Goose pimples stood out on her skin as Ana shivered, watching the tendrils of fog dance in the air around them. She suddenly felt Illieno's gloved hand in hers, though she could not see him, for the mist obscured her sight. Or perhaps it was just that he had become invisible.

The moon was a bright light, shining through the fog with its luminescence. She squinted as the light seemed to pulse and brighten, growing until it shone with an almost unbearable brilliancy.

She turned her face away, her nerves thrumming as she felt the hum of magic in the air. Her muscles twitched with electric energy and her nose itched with its ticklish power.

Ana sneezed explosively, and heard her _achoo_ echoed a half-dozen times, though she only sneezed the once. She felt a shiver tingle up her spine as she realized she was no longer alone, and that the Lioness stood before her, the Last Champion's eyes watering as she wrinkled her nose.

"I always forget how _tingly _magic feels in this world," Alanna said ruefully, "I see you have inherited my unfortunate sensitivity."

Ana couldn't help it, she laughed, even as she felt the _power_ wafting from the woman before her. It was a little intoxicating, the ticklish feeling that hummed in her bones. "You do know how to make an entrance," Ana said, smiling up at her aunt—her protector and mentor.

Alanna grinned at her, flashing her teeth in a wicked smile. "It was a trifle dramatic," she acknowledged, "But what is the point of being a Goddess if I can't enjoy the perks?" she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "Besides, I had to get your attention somehow—it is time that you and I have another little talk."

Ana looked up at her, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she said, "You have a most excellent sense of timing. I was just being to think that luck had abandoned me."

Alanna laughed quietly. "I haven't forgotten about you, Ana darling, there is just a lot going on right now and I can't always spare the energy to devote to this world as I should. Events have a nasty habit of unfolding all at once, and it is not always easy to juggle my duties across the planes."

"How nice of you to spare the time to drop by, Auntie dearest," Ana said, the sarcasm slipping out before she could restrain herself. She blushed as Alanna raised a rueful brow, and rushed on, lest the Lioness think her ungrateful, "It _is _comforting to see you again, and not just in hazy visions and dreams. I like knowing that you are watching over me."

A smile broke over the Lioness's face, "Only _you_ would have the gall to call a Goddess, 'Auntie'," she murmured fondly, "no matter the connection of our shared blood. But I shall forgive your impertinence, for the only reason I can physically enter this world at all is because of my blood ties to you."

Ana's brow furrowed. "What about your husband, George?" She asked, confused, "I saw him too, though we share no common blood."

Alanna's grin vanished and a frown flickered across her brow. "No lock has ever kept George out," she said, with the tiniest hint of resentment in her tone, "He can pretty much get into any place he wants to." She crossed her arms, and added, "And he has always been very good at finding me, wherever I happen to go. I am not surprised to learn that he has been popping into this world without my knowledge. George has his own way of doing things."

The Lioness didn't seem to think too much of her husband's methods—her face was dark and brooding as she spoke. "I prefer to work in a more indirect manner," she continued, shaking her head,

"But it has become trickier to communicate with you these days," she said, "the way into your mind is clouded by Li Dubyn's influence."

Ana stared at the Lioness, watching as frustration flickered across her face with lightning speed.

"I've wondered if Li Dubyn had me under his spell," Ana whispered, "I feared the malicious tension I felt and wondered if it had been sent by him."

The Lioness stood back, her eyes wandering over Ana in an appraising manner. "I cannot lift the spell he has on you," she said, her voice matter-of-fact, "you must find a way to counter his power." She strode forward, reaching out a hand to gently touch the scarf wound around Ana's neck. "And Li Dubyn is not the only one who has put his mark on you. I can feel the remnants of another force, though it is a subtler spell."

Ana shivered, the unpleasant reminder making a scowl surface on her face.

Alanna raised an eyebrow, "You can break the spells," she said, with quiet assurance, "The answer is there inside you if you look for it; trust to your instincts, for they lead the way to the power within yourself."

Ana raised an eyebrow in return, "Got any advice on the matter of our little friend the unopenable box?" she asked, a little snarkily, "Or just more cryptic advice sure to keep me awake at night wondering?"

The Lioness stared at her, her brow furrowing suddenly as she looked down to where the rune covered box lay on Ana's lap. .

"You haven't opened the box yet?" She said, her voice confused. "I gave you the key ages ago."

Ana frowned at the Lioness, her mind whirling.

"What are you talking abo—Oh!"

Ana smacked her forehead as she remembered the little ember stone that she wore around her neck, and its property of making illegible writing legible. She reached beneath the colorful scarf she had won from Illieno, her fingers fumbling as she felt for the pendent.

She frowned as she drew out the charm against pregnancy and the protective amulet that Karma had presented her with. She hastily unwound the scarf from her neck with one hand, even as the other patted her chest, but she could not find the necklace the Lioness had given her.

Ana looked up at the Lioness, her eyes wide. "It's gone," she whispered. "I never took it off…but its not here."

The Lioness's face darkened with her words, suddenly displaying a fierce anger and indignation that made Ana cower. _I had the key all along, but I lost it!_ Ana thought, hanging her head in shame.

"George!" Alanna barked suddenly, her face dangerous as she scowled out at the fog. "What have you done?"

Ana started, looking up again at the Lioness in her surprise. That was _not_ what she'd expected her to say…

A wry chuckle drifted to her ears, and Ana started again as George Cooper resolved from the mist, his almost-handsome face full of fiendish amusement as he grinned at them.

"Now don't get all huffy on me, Alanna-me-love," he said, moving to stand beside his wife. "I just tweaked things a little bit."

George winked at Ana, smoothing his features into a farce of repentant apology as he looked at the Lioness. "I thought as long as you were breaking rules I may as well bend a few myself."

The Lioness harrumphed, scowling up at him. "You are one to talk about _cheating,_" she grumbled rather grumpily.

George Cooper's smile widened. "Believe me, it all works out so much more nicely this way," he said.

"For _them_, perhaps," Alanna shot back, her glare hot with anger.

Ana looked back and forth between them, completely bewildered as to what they were talking about. Her face must have betrayed her confusion, for Alanna sighed and said, "There are rules about how we—as Gods—may interact with mortals and affect the events of a given world. There are consequences for every action made by any being, and the possible consequences increase exponentially in magnitude with the power and influence a being has over an event.

"As Gods and outside observers of this world, we have the ability to see the possible consequences of events independent of how they unfold in time. It is possible, with the use of a few cunning tools that various immortals have developed, to divine the probability that certain consequences will arise from a given action.

"There are some consequences that are infinitely implausible by the natural laws of this world, and other consequences that are forbidden to arise from external influence, for they might very well result in the unraveling of the fabric of this universe, in its destruction. In exchange for the power and ability of being a God, one must swear a binding oath to uphold a certain code of conduct...to protect the worlds which we oversee and create."

A look of ironic amusement crossed the Lioness's face, and she said, "It is possible, however, to bend the rules in an indirect manner, if one is very clever. But, of course, one always runs the risk of self-destruction, for, though we can see probabilities we cannot always predict precisely which of the consequences will prevail…and if a God or Goddess unwittingly violates a law of a world it will—always, without fail—result in the end of their existence."

"And we come to the reason behind Alanna's little temper tantrum," George Cooper put in, his voice dry. "Alanna is just worried that I might overstep the bounds and leave her all alone for eternity." He smiled down at his wife, then reached out a hand and patted her head fondly. "Every gamble has its risks, my love, but you know I am an _expert _at judging chance." He looked over at Ana, shaking his head as he snaked one of his long arms around the Lioness's compact frame. "You'd think she would have realized by now that I make my own luck."

The Lioness's scowl deepened, but her voice betrayed her concern, "Your luck is bound to run out sooner or later," she muttered. She went on under her breath, but Ana caught only the words, "foolish risks" and "bloody _Sight._"

George Cooper laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the fog.

"Alanna is great at seeing the big picture," he informed Ana, "but she often forgets the little details. She has got great determination—some might even say stubbornness—but her greatest failing is that she always wants to be the one to get things done." George squeezed Alanna fondly, then stepped back from her, grinning even as she scowled at him. "We are both working toward the same end," he continued, "We just happen to differ about the best means to get there."

George's impish grin widened, and he leaned in toward Ana to whisper conspiratorially, "Her powers to enter and affect this world are sadly limited, much to her frustration. She especially hates the fact that I am better able to maneuver between worlds."

Ana couldn't help her laugh, though she quickly covered it with a cough as Alanna turned her eyes on her, violet eyes that flickered with annoyance.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Alanna said, loftily. "And with a legitimate purpose, unlike _some _I know."

George shook his head, "Don't think you can drive me off with your scolding; I've got a stake in this venture too."

He turned to Ana. "The little trinket Alanna bequeathed to you will be more useful in other hands," he said enigmatically, "_You_ only needed it to translate the prophecy written on that little box, which tells of how it can be opened."

Ana raised an eyebrow. "Well if _that's_ all I needed it for, then it was clearly an unnecessary accessory," She said, the words slithering off her tongue with snide humor.

Alanna snorted, even as George Cooper erupted into laughter.

"You were right, Alanna darling," George chuckled, "she _does_ have Thom's implacable way with words."

"Too bad it's wasted on you," Alanna rejoined, her sly tone belied by the smile that lifted her corners of her mouth, "Sarcasm is the highest form of humor…"

"...Which is clearly beyond you." Ana finished, with perfect timing.

George Cooper grinned good-naturedly at them, not at all bothered by their teasing. "Then I shall leave you two to enjoy it," he said, winking. "Unless, of course, you need help remembering the riddle written on Numair's box? After all, it has been a while…and you have _such_ a good memory for details."

Alanna opened her mouth, but her retort was stillborn. George had already gone, disappearing as suddenly and silently as he had appeared. The Lioness harrumphed loudly, muttering under her breath about a certain meddler and what she would like to do to him. Ana suppressed the giggle that threatened to escape from her lips. The relationship between husband and wife was obviously a complex one, but Ana could see the love that underlay their squabbling. They reminded her of Lucas and Lara, who—to those who did not know them—seemed antagonistic toward each other, but the outward display of enmity was borne of concern, and not true animosity.

"Well, this certainly changes things," Alanna concluded, with a weary sigh. She ran her fingers through her hair, then she turned her face to Ana and said, "It is a good thing you are so fond of riddles, for I am already tempting fate by translating the runes for you. I can give you no other hints, and you must listen carefully—I can only say it once."

"Oh yes," Ana muttered, under her breath, "I just _love_ riddles and mysteries." _Well, at least Illieno will be titillated, _she thought, and suddenly realized she could no longer feel Illieno's hand in hers, nor could she see his shape anywhere in the white fog around her.

She was alone with the Lioness, who opened her mouth and said:

"The lock forged long ago,

Made for a key that fits.

Passed down the lines,

Through space and time,

Seeking the one for which it exists.

In an ancient magic,

Locked in pedigree,

Find the answer,

Find the key.

I am the same way every day,

Though every day I am new.

My beat is life,

My silence death,

My touch will let you through.

Free me and I will flow,

Damn me and I will pool.

Sometimes red,

Sometimes blue,

I am that which belongs only to you."

The Lioness said every line slowly, waiting for Ana to repeat it, but by the end Ana knew that she was doomed to failure. She had never been handy at memorization and by the time they reached the last stanza she had already forgotten the first.

Still, she tried to keep the words that she could remember in her mind, reciting them under her breath as she searched them for the answer she needed. She closed her eyes, wondering what was sometimes red and sometimes blue _and_ belonged to her? There was something about life and death in there too…She knew that the answers to riddles were often simple, obvious things, but she could think of nothing that fit the criteria the Lioness had laid down.

With a sigh, Ana opened her eyes. The Lioness was gone and the thick fog that had enshrouded her was already dissipating, fading into the night even as the words of the riddle faded from her mind.

She blew out her cheeks, suddenly overwhelmed with despair and disappointment. Her prayers of intervention had been answered, but the not uncertain questions that plagued her. The Lioness had given her the only clue she could, and Ana could ask for no more help in that quarter.

_I wish…_Ana thought, but she could no longer say what she wished for, not even to herself.

~ ~:~ ~


	59. Threads of Destiny Continued

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Major, major apologies for the unbelievably ridiculously excessive delay in the publication of this chapter...er, second half of the previous chapter. I have been discovering how very distracting boys are. Well, boy. I don't think I've done anything productive in the past two months. Serves me right for that year or so of pining for a boy toy.

However, last night I had a mind-bogglingly vivid vision of my future (no, I was not high on anything except dopamine and endorphins) and it scared me so much (think: Mount Everest stacks of laundry with baby on one hip and droning of Fox News in the background) that I ran away screaming (read: politely declined going, once again, to help disembowel vintage motorcycles) and decided that I was going to finish this fanfiction if it was the last thing I ever wrote.

This is easier said than done, as I haven't written anything except disgusting poetry about the follies of love for the past two months. So, long story short, not the most exciting chapter I've ever put out there. But it is something and I PROMISE STUFF WILL BE HAPPENING VERY SOON. And not just me weighing the pros and cons of spinsterhood. :)

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Fifty-eight: Threads of Destiny Continued

Illieno shivered, feeling the fear creep along his spine even as the fog crept across the ground toward them, engulfing the world with its innocuous-looking shroud. It was moving too fast—too swiftly and too thickly to be of natural origins…and who had ever heard of _fog_ in the desert? There was not enough moisture in the arid wasteland to supply the foundation for such phenomena…it _couldn't_ be natural.

He swallowed convulsively as the fog descended, turning his vision white. He could not see the nose on his own face, much less the woman next to him, but his hand found hers and squeezed it tightly for reassurance. The fear thudded through his veins, screaming for a release, but there was nothing he could do, no defense he could make.

For the fog could only be of magical origins, and he had no Gift to speak of.

It was his greatest fear, the one he kept locked inside of him most of the time, buried beneath the facade of bravado and easy assurance. But it surfaced now, the utter terror of helplessness, for here was an enemy that he could not fight with sharp blade or cutting wit.

Illieno thrust himself into the void, into invisibility, into his only defense—the comforting consciousness of nonbeing. But it was a shallow comfort, less substantial than the warmth of Ana's palm in his, for magic could find him whether or not he was visible to the spellcaster.

There was nothing to do but cling to Ana's hand, to his faith in her Gift to protect him, for he knew he was powerless to protect himself.

And then that last security was ripped from him, as his hand suddenly closed on nothingness.

Illieno smothered the terrified gasp that threatened to break from his lips. There had been no warning of Ana's removing her hand, no sensation of her fingers breaking from his. Her hand was just _gone_; disappearing as instantly as the fog had descended upon them.

His heart beating uncontrollably in his chest, Illieno reached out his hands, blindly seeking Ana's form in the mist. His questing fingers found nothing, as if Ana had simply ceased to exist physically as truly as he ceased to exist visibly.

Fear overcame caution, and the cry broke from his lips, echoing oddly in the heavy blanket of the fog, "Ana! Ana!"

"She cannot hear you," came a voice, a voice that did not ring as his did but cut through the mist as if it did not even exist. Illieno spun, his hands moving automatically to whip his daggers from the places where they were concealed beneath his clothing.

He froze, his heart galloping away at a ferocious pace as he took in the man who stood only a few paces away. The fog had parted enough to give Illieno a clear view of him, and he felt the fear wafting over him again as he realized that the man's brown eyes were focused on the place where he stood, though it was impossible, for he was still invisible.

Then Illieno inhaled a deep breath and mastered his fear, for even the greatest mage was still a man, and would die just as surely as the next if stabbed through the heart. He gathered himself for the move, knowing that his only advantage was in surprise.

And then the man spoke, his eyes glinting with a mischievous light as he shook his head.

"I did not think you were the sort to attack an unarmed man, Illieno." he said, with an edge of amusement that reminded him—unaccountably—of his mother.

It was enough to make him hesitate.

He sized up the man before him, calculating his odds if it came to a fight, while he weighed his response. They were about matched physically, about the same height and of similar builds. Illieno dismissed the man's claim that he was unarmed. This Mirthros-forsaken fog hadn't sprung from nowhere, after all.

"No man who still has all of his limbs and his wits about him is ever unarmed," Illieno said, carefully. "And no man who can not only see but name invisible men cannot be dismissed as harmless." If it was a duel of wits that this man sought, then Illieno would spin it out as long as possible in the hope that Ana might yet reappear to aid him.

The tall man grinned, a grin that was so inexplicably familiar that Illieno almost missed his words as he stared, trying to remember just where he had seen that smile before.

"I never said I was harmless," the man said, "only that I was unarmed. It does not follow, however, that my intentions toward you are hostile. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Who are you?" Illieno demanded, though he had not yet ruled out attack. "How do you know my name? What have you done with Ana?"

The man laughed shortly. "Scared are you?" He asked, though his tone was pleased as he continued, "But you have conquered your fear and are determined to fight me, though you know instinctually that it would mean your death. Your courage is commendable."

Illieno opened his mouth—to say just what he wasn't sure—but the man held up his hand and Illieno felt his throat close, choking off his words. "I will answer your questions," he continued, seriously, "in descending order. And then we shall see whether or not you still fear me."

Illieno raised an eyebrow, gesturing for the man to get on with it, though he did not put away his weapons. Doubt and uncertainty mingled with the fear pounding through his veins, though he did his best to veil the terror that threatened to steal across his features. Something about this man unhinged him, something beyond the obvious discomfit of the tall man's ability to see and name him.

"In truth, I have done nothing with Ana," the man began. A wicked smile crossed his lips as he took in the frustration that Illieno could not keep from his face. "But, since it will put you at ease," he continued, after a moment, "I will tell you that she is safe. My wife wished a private word with her, but I can assure you that no harm will befall her from their conversation."

Illieno did not wish to relax, but the man's words held such conviction that he could not help but feel easier after their utterance. He felt his tension unwinding further as the man rolled his eyes and said, "This forsaken fog is her doing as well. A bit ostentatious for my taste, but long years of experience have taught me that it's best to humor her."

The statement drew a reluctant laugh from Illieno, and—for a moment—they shared a knowing grin.

But Illieno's smile died as he remembered that he had no particular reason to trust the word of this stranger who had appeared at his most vulnerable moment—he must remain vigilant and not let the man's easy charm disarm him.

The man threw back his head and laughed, making his chestnut hair bounce crazily. "Still suspicious, I see," he said, throwing Illieno that frustratingly familiar grin. "That is as it should be. I would expect nothing less from you, for I have not come to you under the most trust-inducing circumstances."

He leaned forward, "As to your first two questions," he said, "they have much the same answer."

The man waited until he had Illieno's full attention, then said, "I have been watching you for some time, Illieno, for your life is of particular interest to me. Of course, I take an interest in the lives of all of my descendents, but—I have to admit—I take especial pleasure in watching your exploits, for they put me in mind of myself at your respective ages."

Illieno stared at the tall man, his brow furrowed as the man's words reverberated through his mind. _I take an interest in the lives of all of my descendents…_

No, it was impossible. This man was only a couple of decades older than he was, younger than his father. There was no way they could be related…no way…

The man's grin widened as he watched Illieno's reaction to his words. And then Illieno felt all of the breath leave his lungs as he realized just exactly where he had seen that smile before.

"_Mithros!"_ Illieno swore, staggering backwards. His daggers slipped from numb fingers as his jaw gaped open in silent astonishment.

"Wrong God," said George Cooper, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "But, I'm flattered just the same. Of course, it would be best if you didn't mention the mix-up to Mithros…he can get a bit ornery when he thinks he's not getting the respect he deserves."

"But…you are…" Illieno couldn't find the words; astonishment had driven all thought out of his mind. And then the true import of George Cooper's words sunk in.

"Your descendents…" Illieno whispered. "I'm one of your descendents." Not just _his_ descendent, but also the Lioness's descendent. _He was the blood of the Lioness!_

"Yes," murmured George Cooper. George Cooper, who had broken the siege at Corus. George Cooper, who had given the prophecy that the Lioness would come again. George Cooper, who had died a millennium ago…and who now stood before Illieno, his teeth glinting in the smile that was a mirror image of Illieno's own. "I've been meaning to drop in on you for some time, but the moment was never quite right. And now…well, I thought since Alanna was visiting Ana I would tag along and introduce myself to my prodigy."

It was too much, too much to process. Illieno could do nothing but gape at the God who stood before him, the God who was _his ancestor_.

George Cooper seemed to find his astonishment quite amusing. "Really, there is no need to look so _awed_," he chuckled, "I'm really not that impressive."

"But…" Illieno stuttered, "_How?_ We were always taught that the descendents of the Lioness disappeared…"

"Didn't you ever wonder just where they disappeared to?" George Cooper asked, cocking his head. Illieno shook his head. It had never occurred to him to wonder.

"After Alanna and I died…my children decided it was best to go underground. Already the legend of the Lioness and the Rogue was spreading throughout the land, and they knew that wherever they went and whatever they did they would be hounded by the ghosts of their parent's fame. They changed their names, changed their appearances and disguised themselves as ordinary citizens. My son Thom went into the service of a family who had recently established a fief close to his old home of Pirate's Swoop. He had grown disgusted with the aristocracy of Tortall, and chose to eschew a life of comfort for a life of servitude. My son Alan, in contrast, went into trade. He travelled for many years before returning to Tortall, with a different name, a difference face and a vast fortune. He married the sole daughter of an old family with great pride and dignity, but dwindling wealth. As for my daughter, Aly…she was in the Copper Isles when the news came of our deaths, and there she remained, under the protection of her friends there."

Illieno felt the cogs in his mind whirling, putting together the pieces of the story he had just heard with the legends and myths he had grown up with and the family history he had gleaned from his parents. "My mother's mother was from the Copper Isles," he murmured, his hands toying with the small, beaded bracelet that he had worn on his right wrist ever since his mother's funeral. "And Ana spoke of the red-headed Housekeeper at Silverlee, who bequeathed to her her most precious possession: a little carved box passed down through her family for generations."

Illieno raised his eyes to find George Cooper smiling at him in a thoughtful way. "Numair's box," he said, matter-of-factly. "Ana needs what is inside it, but I'm afraid she is going to need a little help deciphering the riddle written on it."

"The runes are a riddle?" Illieno asked, wonderingly. "I couldn't make heads of tales of them."

George Cooper laughed, "They were written in a language that was dead before _my_ time," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "But it is lucky for you both that I know what it says, for the key to decoding the runes is needed elsewhere."

Illieno started to ask just what the key was and where it was needed, but George Cooper raised a hand as if he had read his thoughts. "I'm afraid our time grows short, Illieno-me-lad. But I will make a little wager with you…from one gambling man to another. If you can solve the riddle within one guess then I shall answer whatever question you choose to ask."

"And if I don't solve it in one guess?" Illieno asked, his eyebrow arched in an unspoken question.

A slow, mournful look stole across George Cooper's face. "If not, then I shall retract the boon I granted to your mother, who sacrificed the Gifts in her blood so that her only child could walk through the world unseen, untouched, and unheard by those who would have destroyed him for being what he was."

Cold crept down Illieno's spine, and, unbidden, a memory surfaced in his mind. The sound of his mother, weeping heart-wrenching sobs behind the closed door of her library. _"Please!" _he heard her cry, a sound of such grief that even Illieno's infantile mind could register the terror. _"Please, not Illieno! Not like that. Not like that! Please, Gods…Please, Lioness! I'll give anything, but let him be invisible to them! Let them pass him by…oh, take away what I have Seen!"_

And then another memory, the memory of the first time he had ever cast his inexplicable ability away from himself: his sweaty hand clamped tight across the sweet lips of his first lover, their naked bodies pressed close together, shying away from the men who had tracked them to their secret meeting place. He could still see the panic glittering in Derrick's eyes, still smell the sour scent of stale sweat and alcohol-sodden breath as the men crept closer and closer to their hiding spot, still feel the jerk of muscles as Derrick pulled out of Illieno's embrace…still hear the sick sounds of metal meeting flesh as he struggled not to cry out, not to vomit, not to give himself away…

Illieno shuddered, thrusting away the horrible memories, pushing them back down inside himself, locking them away once again in the deepest recesses of his mind.

He raised his eyes to George Cooper's face and was startled by the compassion that shone in his eyes. "You cannot change what you are," George Cooper said quietly, "Neither can you change the past. Your mother had no idea of the ramifications of her choice, no idea how her sacrifice would tip the scales. But I Saw what her decision would mean and it sparked the first hope that I had felt in a long, long time." George Cooper took a step forward, closing the space between them. He put a hand on Illieno's shoulder, his strong grip and the light in his eyes conveying a faith that made tears well in Illieno's eyes. "Your mother opened the way for your true destiny," he whispered, "Now I have come to see it fulfilled."

"Give me the riddle," Illieno said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

George Cooper took a step back and said with quiet force:

"The lock forged long ago,

Made for a key that fits.

Passed down the lines,

Through space and time,

Seeking the one for which it exists.

In an ancient magic,

Locked in pedigree,

Find the answer,

Find the key.

I am the same way every day,

Though every day I am new.

My beat is life,

My silence death,

My touch will let you through.

Free me and I will flow,

Dam me and I will pool.

Sometimes red,

Sometimes blue,

I am that which belongs only to you."

Illieno let the words wash over him, let them sink into his mind. He did not reach for the answer, did not grope, but let the phrases play around in his head, let them unfold their meaning to him. And before he had repeated the riddle twice the answer came to him, simple and easy as the solutions to such riddles usually were.

"Blood," he said, no hint of uncertainty in his words. "The answer is blood."

Such was the slow, sly smile that broke over George Cooper's face that Illieno instantly felt his world expand and swell as elation swept over him. He felt dizzy, looking into the face of a God as he grinned a grin that held more pride and satisfaction than any Illieno had ever received.

"Well done, my son," George Cooper murmured. "You have earned an answer."

Illieno was silent for a moment, contemplating all of the things he might ask, all of the things that he wanted to know…

But when the question finally left his lips, it startled him, for it had not been in his mind to ask such a thing, "Will I ever find the one I am looking for?" he whispered.

George Cooper's smile was once again full of familiar playfulness. "It is not for you to do the finding, Illieno," he said, gently. "He may come to you one day, though, if you are lucky enough to escape the coming encounter with your life."

Illieno sighed, closing his eyes as the breath left his lips in a long release. Emotion roiled in his chest: dread, fear, impatience…but also an unexpected contentment. At least he knew there _was_ someone out there…someone who would be right for him. Someone who could love him back the way he needed to be loved.

_I will wait for you, _he thought, calling to his unnamed love. _I will wait for you as long as it takes. _

And for a moment, a fleeting moment, he felt he impression of soft lips upon his own and saw deep, endlessly deep brown eyes looking into his.

Illieno's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding out a ragged rhythm in his chest. George Cooper was gone, vanishing as instantly as he had appeared. The fog around him swirled in playful eddies, but it seemed to be breaking up. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of red, and to his ears came a muted sound like the echo of a frustrated sigh, but when he turned towards it there was nothing there, nothing save the reflection of moonlight on the desert sand.

~:~

Illieno stood next to the remnants of their fire, staring off into the desert, watching the fog drift off in wispy curls. At his feet lay two daggers, their naked blades reflecting the moonlight in glittering shards.

Ana felt the despair wash over her again as she approached him, feeling her failure pulsing through her temples with a throbbing pain. She had let him down, let them all down. The riddle that the Lioness had recited for her was evaporating from her mind, leaking away like water through cupped hands. She could not solve it, could not even remember enough of it to ask for Illieno's aide.

Tears welled in her eyes, tears of weariness and despair.

Illieno must have heard her approach, for he turned toward her. His face transformed as he took in her watery eyes, and he closed the space between them in one long stride. His arms closed around her stiff form, squeezing her gently for a moment before he stepped back. He gripped her shoulder with one hand, using the other to wipe away the tears that streaked down her face.

"Sshh," he murmured, "Don't cry."

His attempts at comfort only increased her misery, for she knew that they were doomed. Doomed to die…and it was all her fault.

"I can't solve it," she sobbed, forgetting that Illieno knew nothing of the riddle written on the box. "I couldn't hold it in my mind…its gone! I've doomed us to failure!"

To her utter astonishment and confusion, Illieno burst into laughter. She was so surprised she even forgot to cry.

"George Cooper was right," he giggled, "You _do_ need my help."

Ana gasped, her grief shouldered aside by the great flood of gratitude that swept through her. "You know the answer!" She cried.

A sly smile spread across Illieno's face in answer, and Ana found a similar grin tugging at her own lips. She held up the little box, letting the moonlight shine across the peaks and valleys of the runes.

Illieno bent down and retrieved his daggers, but he sheathed only one. The other he held in his right hand, even as he took her free hand into his.

"I am the same way every day," he recited, "Though every day I am new. My beat is life, my silence death; my touch will let you through." Illieno turned her hand over, until her palm lay open and relaxed, resting in his grasp. "Free me and I will flow, dam me and I will pool," he said, tracing the dagger lightly over her lifeline so that Ana had to bite her lip to keep from giggling from the ticklish pressure. "Sometimes red, sometimes blue; your blood is that which belongs only to you," Illieno finished.

Ana raised her eyes to his, understanding making her heart thunder in anticipation.

"Of course," she murmured, feeling the rueful smile arch across her mouth. Illieno's eyes twinkled as he placed the dagger in her hand, his lips quirked in a smug grin that might have annoyed her had she not been bursting with appreciation.

She closed her hand around Illieno's blade, and felt a sharp, prickly line of pain rip through her palm as the skin parted. Blood welled between her fingertips, and she lifted her hand so that the first drop would fall upon the carved center of the little box.

Ana watched with bated breath as her blood fell through the air to splatter against the dark wood.

She saw her blood trickle into the carved trenches of the runes, but then the world exploded in a mass of color and light and she knew no more.

~ ~:~ ~


	60. Plans Revisited

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Oh, what a difference a week can make! Little more than a week ago I was freaking out because aforementioned boy was taking up practically all of my time. Now, in a fabulously ironic turn of events, said boy has failed to contact me for a week. Commence bi-polar episodes of wallowing in despair followed directly by feminist indignation at patheticness of self. This has been terribly tragic for me, but good for you, as writing seems to be the only remedy for heart-break. If I am busy being Karma or Illieno or Ana or Will, then I have no time to be sad, neglected little Nessa. Of course, at the moment I'd rather listening to my boy talk Car as he pours over an electrical diagram than battling demons and Imps in Tortall...but alas, it is not meant to be.

The moral of the moment: Be careful what you wish for, cause you just might get it!

~Nessa'fur

PS: Once again, the flow of time in this chapter is a little bit screwy. But bear with me, I swear it makes sense. Kind of. As much as anything does, really.

Chapter Fifty-nine: Plans Revisited

Karma stood at the top of the world, her shaky fingers clutching Darkness's bridle as if it were the anchor that would keep her from toppling over the edge of an infinitesimal abyss, though in reality the platform they stood on was surprisingly solid and unworn, as if the pounding of the elements could not penetrate this particular portion of the ruin, though it has stood exposed to wind and air for countless ages.

Tortall unfolded before her, unraveling like a marvelous tapestry woven in the muted greens, soft blues, and dusty yellows of springtime. Directly beneath her, or so it seemed, the once-deserted ruins of the City of the Gods swarmed with people. Even from her lofty perch, she could hear the subtle murmuring of conversation and the crackle and boom of magic, even as the City hummed and pulsed with its own mysterious power. To her left was the iron side of a mountain, and, to her right, the Grimmold Pass was alive with mages, soldiers, and workmen who looked like so many little ants as they scurried about, fortifying the pass with various earthworks and defensive spells. Beyond the ruined City, a vast suburb of dun-colored tents flooded the foothills before the mountains, punctuated by the smoky signals of cooking-fires and impromptu forges. Tents gave way gradually to trees, whose swollen buds were just beginning to burst their seams in anticipation of turning their verdant faces to the sun. And beyond _that, _ the horizon was swallowed up by gently sloping hills and valleys, though Karma thought, or perhaps imagined, that on the very edge of the skyline she could see a golden glittering, which _might_ have been Corus winking at her in the sunlight.

The vista was breathtaking, in a very literal sense of the word, for the longer she stared the more light-headed she felt and she shallower her breaths became. Perhaps Darkness sensed her dizziness, for the stallion turned his head and regarded her with one solemn eye before nudging her shoulder gently as if to say, "Look at _me_ instead."

Karma grinned at the warhorse, stroking a finger along his velvet nose. In the past week or so she had become quite enamored of Darkness (though she told herself she would _never_ be as fond of him as she was of her own Destiny) and between the horse and the girl a friendship had formed, forged with a mutual respect and understanding. His intelligence, discipline, and patience never ceased to amaze her; she was humbled that such a great beast would deign to abide one such as her.

Absentmindedly, Karma lifted a hand to her hair, and was startled—yet again—at how very _short_ it was. Tohmas, as handy with a shears as he was with a needle, had left her with only an inch or so of stubble to hide her scalp. She missed the comforting weight of her long braid down her back and mourned the loss of her hair as acutely as if it had been her legs that he had chopped off instead. Not even the satisfaction of having Lucas inquire, upon first seeing her in her new guise, _'Just_ who_ is this new recruit and _why_ wasn't I informed?' _could make up for the sacrifice of her beautiful hair.

A wistful sigh escaped Karma's lips as she slowly lowered her arm. The binding around her breasts restricted her breath in an uncomfortable way, but it was a trifling irritation compared to the prickly coarseness of her new uniform. It was so itchy that Karma marveled at the men of the King's Own, wondering if they endured such discomfort out of misguided masculine pride or if they were all so thick-skinned that they did not feel how the fabric chaffed.

The reminder of her new uniform brought Karma firmly back to the present moment, and she recalled that she was supposedto be guarding the King, not just acting as a breathing hitching-post for his horse. She shifted her weight and glanced around, wondering if the other members of the Honor Guard had noticed her absence of mind. Apparently not, for the other four were too busy scanning their immediate surroundings as intently as if the Imp himself were lurking just behind one of the broken pillars that mingled with moldering brickwork and the debris of ages.

Content that her new brothers-in-arms had the situation well in hand, Karma went back to doing what had been her chief employment of late: watching Will.

At the moment, Will was arguing with his advisors (which was _his_ chief employment of late). Or, rather, Will was mediating while his advisors argued with each other. Occasionally, they would all fall silent as the King Spoke, then there would be a brief intermission as everyone agreed (or pouted) and accepted His Wisdom, and then another topic would be broached and another argument would ensue. Karma wasn't standing close enough to distinguish anything more than the general rise and swell of the conversation, but she could easily postulate what was being said from tedious past experience. Today, they were probably discussing the best way to fletch arrows or tie boot laces.

Karma had wondered, at first, why Will put up with such squabbling over all the trivial details of the coming battle, but, as Will had patiently explained to her, it was a necessary evil. For though Will had outlined his overall objectives of what the battle plan consisted of, the details of _how_ were left to the generals and advisors to hammer out among themselves. And whenever a dispute arose over the best way to accomplish his goals (or when a consensus was deemed too risky to employ without sanctioned approval) the generals would appeal to him as the ultimate deciding factor.

Annoying as it was, there was also a comfort in the fact that the generals had been reduced to henpecking over where latrines were housed and the proper proportion of water to ale to keep their supplies sterile and their soldiers alert; for it meant that—as the passes were fast drying out enough to allow passage again—the Tortallian Army had already worked out the most important aspects of their battle plan. The preparations that were going on in the City and the Pass had been agreed upon long ago, and now they had naught left to do but accomplish as much as possible in the time allotted to them.

And, in the mean time, Karma and Will were doing their own preparations, in anticipation of the execution of her own little Plan. Unfortunately for her, it was essential to her plan that she be around Will as often as possible…which meant that she, too, had to endure these lengthy torture sessions. What she was doing—standing here on a mountain-top wearing the unfamiliar livery of the King's Own with her hair cropped short and her face disguised—was absolutely essential to the preservation of Tortall.

Karma knew this—on a deep, intellectual level—but it did nothing to suppress her frustration or alleviate her boredom. So she let her mind wander down more pleasant paths, and tried not to let guilt mar her musings, for she knew very well that the waiting would end all too soon.

~:~

Ana sat upon Firedance's back, staring up at the closed gates of the Garrison at Ithsma and wondering just what in _hell_ she was supposed to do now.

The bright rays of the full moon threw the landscape into sharp relief, brilliant whites and glowing grays contrasted by the fathomless blacks of the shadows. She and Firedance were in plain view, just yards from where the uniformed ranks of the night watch patrolled along the top of the fortress's battlements, yet the men gave no indication of noticing their very obvious presence, their eyes sliding over the space where she and Firedance stood as if they weren't even there.

Not that she was really all that surprised. She'd used up her quota of consternation long ago, and had just learned to accept that strange and seemingly impossible things were a frequent occurrence in her life.

But that had been in Tortall, where the rules of the universe were different than the ones she'd grown up to expect. In Tortall, for example, it was perfectly plausible to, in one instant, be siphoning her own blood onto an unopenable box and in the next be waking up with a hunting horn in one hand and Illieno's boot (sans foot) as her uncomfortable pillow. What did it matter that when they woke they found themselves on the dunes above the spring-swollen Drell River (a good two days journey from where they had been camped) _these things happened _in Tortall.

But when they had crossed the bridge into Ithsma and left Tortall behind, Ana had expected that events in the Thaylian Empire would behave as her rational-minded tutors in the City had led her to believe they should.

She should have known better.

Ana sighed loudly. The moon was fast completing her nightly pilgrimage across the sky and still she had not thought of a way to attract the guard's attention, so they could let her in. She'd tried hollering her hallo, but the guards were apparently deaf as well as blind, and the stones she'd thrown had only started a brawl over which of the patrolmen had done the throwing.

As she watched, the moon's bright face dipped below the horizon and the lesser stars winked back into existence, even as the more earthly stars of the Garrison's electric lanterns flickered on, illuminating a roughly twenty-foot perimeter before the wall. Not that the artificial light helped them see _her_ any better.

It was obvious _somebody_ (Ana had a sneaking suspicion of who) didn't want these men to know she'd dropped by. So the question became: how did _they_ expect her to sneak in? The gate was too high to jump and—even deaf and blind—someonewas bound to notice if the gated opened of its own accord…

Ana looked up at the top of the battlements, trying to judge how high they were. _Too high_, she decided, letting out another sigh. She would never be able to levitate herself over using her Gift; it would simply take too much energy.

Her eyes dropped from the crenellated top to the wall itself, noting how smoothly the identical blocks fit together. She would never be able to scale the wall freehand, but perhaps if she used her Gift to give her hand-holds…

Enamored of the idea, Ana dismounted and told Firedance in her firmest voice to "_Stay_ _here._" The horse snorted and tossed her head discontentedly, but did not move as Ana walked directly up to the wall and laid her hands on it.

She inhaled a deep breath and reached for her Gift…

…And felt the oddest sensation.

Icy shards of _something _prickled and twinged, even as her mental fingers slipped along a slick barrier.

For a moment, her concentration broke and the sensation ceased with her attempt to access her Gift. _Perhaps I imagined it_, she thought, _perhaps I was simply too confident, too hasty_. She shook her head, physically and mentally, readying herself for another attempt. She did as Tohmas had taught her to do, emptying her mind of every sensation save that of her Gift. Just as usual, she could feel its pulsing warmth flooding the edges of her awareness. She put out a tentative, questing touch, but just before she could plunge herself into the magic she felt again that same oily, icy tingle. Her Gift was there, beyond the whatever-it-was that stood between her and her power, but the harder she prodded the sharper and slipperier the cold barricade became.

Ana frowned, though there was nothing corporeal to frown _at. _It was not like before, when she'd first been learning to summon her Gift and it had slipped away from her. She could clearly feel the magic that waited, wanting to fill her, but she could not reach it for there was a sheet of glass (_of ice? _she thought, her mind fumbling for similitudes) that prevented her.

Ana opened her eyes and stared numbly at the blank face of the garrison wall.

For a moment, she was filled with despair so complete that her entire body trembled and quivered. She had never known, until that moment, how much she had come to rely upon her Gift, how much a part of her it truly was. Like a seedling that had sprouted and spread its branches wide within her being, so had her Gift grown and flourished. She rested easy within its shadow, knowing always that she did not have to reach far to harvest its sweet fruits.

Yet now that comfort was torn from her, and she felt it as keenly as if she had just lost the use of her eyes or her hands.

And then, without pause or transition, she was furious.

Anger howled within her; a fury and indignation of such ferocity that her body quaked once again. Nothing, _nothing,_ would ever come between her and any part of herself. Not then, not now, not ever.

Ana drew the anger into herself, feeling it pounding hotly within her veins, and lashed out at the _thing_ that stood between her and her power.

She knew the exact moment her mental fist punched through the icy barrier, but it was not the glorious sensation of magic pulsing through her that made her gasp and stumble backwards. _That, _she had been expecting.

What she had not been expecting was for every one of the garrison's spot-lights to explode in a showering torrent of hot glass.

"Oh my," said Ana, in a very small voice.

It had been a long time since she'd accidentally made something like that happen with her Gift. So long, in fact, that she'd assumed she had outgrown the tendency. The present situation pretty much dispensed with that illusion.

Above her, men were yelling and the sounds of many booted feet running gave evidence that—if the entire garrison hadn't already been alerted that Something Was Afoot, then it would not be long before they were. Well, there was nothing she could do to help that. The best she could do was use the distraction to her advantage and hope that she could locate whom she needed in the chaos of the alarm. For, despite her earlier desperation to capture the Garrison's attention, now that she _had_, Ana felt a strong desire to remain unnoticed by any save the man she wanted to see.

Her Gift still thrummed in her veins, crying for release, but Ana fought down the urge. Common sense told her she must not be hasty, and now that she had managed to access her magic she was reluctant to let it go again. So instead she ignored the instincts which told her to free the power and let only a small trickle flow outwards to her hands as she reached for the Garrison wall.

The moment her questing fingertips found the smooth surface of the stones, Ana knew exactly what it was she was supposed to do and how it was she would complete her mission.

For her Gift-laden fingers did not stop when they met the barrier of the stone wall, but passed through as if it did not even exist.

~:~

Illieno paced restlessly along the banks of the spring-swollen Drell River, just beyond the subtle rise in the grassy landscape that hid the Thaylian Outpost from his anxious gaze. His path took him around a little streamlet that had broken away from the greater torrent to form a swirling pool where, beneath the cover of the various flotsam and jetsam, a thriving ecology of frogs and fish and insects kept court.

The sounds of croaking and chirruping, splashing and whirring accompanied him on his circuit, a startling symphony after the relative quiet of the desert. It was a strange thing, the great contrast between the Tortallian side of the river and the Thaylian side. On the western bank, sand dunes mingled with a few outcrops of scraggly brush, while on the eastern bank there was nothing but grass—tall, golden grass with wispy tassels; short, spiky grass of a rich emerald hue; grass with fat, oval blades; grass of a million different shades and shapes.

Illieno pondered over the difference, wondering how it had come to be. What was it about the Thaylian side that allowed such a verdant abundance to grow, while in his homeland there was only desert waste?

But there was no satisfactory answer to that question, and so Illieno's eyes turned once again to the full moon, hanging low on the western horizon. Impossible though it seemed, it had been only three nights since Ana's argument with the King, four days and three nights since they had parted ways with the Army of Tortall. By now, the Army should be nearing the City of the Gods, nearing the Grimmold Pass, where they would fight to keep the Scanrans from despoiling what was left of Tortall's fertile soil.

And even more impossibly, it had been only one day since Ana had opened the carved box with such spectacular results. Illieno had a faint recollection of seeing Ana's blood seep into the top of the box, and then the runes had lit up with a dazzling, multi-colored light that exploded outwards in whorls and vortices what seemed too purposeful to be random. The next thing he knew, he was waking up with a mouth full of sand, completely naked with his belongings scattered about him in motley piles. Ana, he couldn't help but note, was both fully clothed and fully unconscious. Her head was nestled on top of his left boot as if it were a fluffy pillow. Firedance and Eclipse were nearby; their heads together as they gossiped about something or other—probably wondering why Illieno had decided to take off all of his clothes and throw them around randomly. He couldn't blame them; he was wondering the same thing.

Of course, waking up completely naked when he distinctly remembered losing consciousness with his clothing _on_ was startling. But not, however, as startling as waking up a good forty leagues south and east, at the very edge of the desert.

Not that Illieno was complaining. Quite the contrary, in fact, for the box's little transportation trick (At least, the box was at the top of his list of possible transporters, though there were two others who figured prominently in his suspicions) had saved them a good two days worth of travel. Of course, there was still a good five or six days left of their journey, so it would have been expedient of him to get some rest now for the morrow's ride.

But Illieno could not have slept even if he'd wanted to, for Ana's absence was like a festering wound: it made him itchy and irritable. His anxiety only increased as the moon set. Ana should have been back by now…After all, how long could it take to deliver a warning?

"I knew I shouldn't have let her go alone," Illieno muttered darkly at the calm little pool. He'd only agreed to her going solo because that hulking beast of a building gave him the heeby-jeebies. Illieno had always trusted his instincts, and the sight of the Thaylian Fort, sitting, as it did, beside the flooded banks of the Drell, had evoked such a powerful sense of dread that he had been nauseated for a good hour afterward.

It hadn't been until they'd agreed upon a rendezvous, and Ana had ridden off into the distance that Illieno had recalled Karma's warning, _"When the lightning strikes and the rain falls upward do not hesitate, but seek help in the large stone building next to a swollen river." _There could be no other interpretation of those words; she _had_ to have meant the Thaylian Fort. But, by the time he had remembered, Ana had been long gone and it was too late to follow her.

And now Ana had failed to show up when expected. Illieno decided to go and seek her out, for obviously her "Plan" had gone awry. Yet, as soon as he had resolved to return to the Fort, he found himself exceedingly reluctant to leave. After all, what if they missed each other en route? How would Ana react if he wasn't here to meet her?

Possible scenarios whirled through Illieno's worry-laden mind: explanations for Ana's tardiness and strategies for a daring rescue attempt on his part, each more implausible than the last.

As minutes stretched to hours, Illieno resolved a thousand times to ride back to the Thaylian Fort and find Ana. Yet as soon as he had convinced himself of action he found himself thinking of excuses to stay and wait just a little bit longer. He told himself that he would _know_ if something truly terrible had happened to Ana, but deep down he knew that was only a superficial excuse.

Though he was too ashamed to acknowledge it, Illieno's true fear (and the true reason for his reluctance) was that he would break into the Thaylian Fort only to find that Ana had forsaken him, forsaken Tortall and all its troubles and returned to the safety and security of her mother's land.

But this fear was too awful, too shameful to admit, even to himself, so Illieno dithered and paced while above him the stars wheeled across the sky, twinkling with casual unconcern for the drama unfolding beneath their glittering gazes.

Eventually, he decided that if she had not returned by the first light he would go after her. Then he made himself a comfortable nest in the grass and tried to sleep.

It was to no avail; his worried mind would not shut down, so instead Illieno sat up and turned his gaze south, the direction that Ana had gone. He passed the time by rehearsing the lecture he was going to give her when she finally _did_ return.

In the end, he heard Ana coming long before he saw her.

Perhaps he had dozed off after all, for when he heard her shouting he leapt to his feet, only to fall down again as his drowsy limbs failed to support his weight. Illieno stumbled upright once more, just as Ana and Firedance crested the slope at a steady trot. They were still too far away for him to see her expression, but he could clearly hear the anger in her words—though they were slurred together to the point of incoherence.

Alarmed, Illieno whistled shrilly for Eclipse, who was at his side in a flash of well-shod hooves, his sleek body at stiff attention though his ears were perked in the direction of Ana's very audible approach. Illieno froze, in the middle of lifting the saddle onto Eclipse's back, for—as Ana crossed some crucial point of audile lucidity—her words suddenly became clear to him.

She was swearing voraciously; cursing some General or other, using some very imaginative terms to describe him, his mother, and his entire ancestry. Then, when she ran out of satisfying epithets, she commenced a colorful tangent that illustrated in intimate detail what he (the General) should do with himself, using certain blunt instruments.

Illieno was so shocked to hear such oaths emerging from Ana's mouth (where in the Goddess's name had innocent little Ana, who blushed when he asked her to turn around so he could relieve himself, learned to swear like that?) that he completely forgot to be mad at her for being so tardy. Instead he simply stared, jaw agape, as she dismounted with a violent leap and stalked towards him.

"Don't bother," she snapped, waving a clenched fist at Illieno. Instinctually he flinched, before he realized she meant the saddle he was still grasping. "General Scum-on-the-bottom-of-a-rancid-barrel-of-fish (Obviously she'd run out of the usual sort of offensive adjectives and had now resorted to inventing her own, with limited success) and his brethren of putrid parasites won't be joining our party any time soon. They will be too busy burying their craven, feces-smeared faces in their beloved _paperwork_ and _bureaucracy…"_

Illieno had no idea what those two particular words meant, but he gathered from the context that they must mean some especially vile Thaylian ritual.

Ana had now turned Firedance loose to graze and drink without even losing a beat of her speech, "…Those oily, puss-filled protrusions on the nether-regions of rodents can take their thrice-blasted _guns_ and their puke-infested _chain of command_ and use them to wash out their moldy ear-drums, for all the good _they _will be when the Scanrans take the fort!..."

Ana continued in this vein for some time, while Illieno listened and tried to suppress the hysterical laughter that was constantly threatening to break from his lips.

From the clues and hints that peppered her colorful rant, Illieno pieced together several substantial points of fact (besides a plethora of questionable assumptions, aspirations, and accusations).

One, that Ana's Plan to rally the Thaylian Fort to their aide (Tactfully, he refrained from mentioning that she had failed to impart that portion of The Plan to _him._) had failed because:

A.) Her brother had not been present, as anticipated.

B.) The General in charge, in addition to being the illegitimate offspring of a surprising array of barnyard animals, had flatly refused to engage in a battle without the prior consent of the Empress and/or her Commander-in-Chief (ref. point A)

Two, that not only had General Rabbit Pellet refused to offer the Garrison's assistance, but he had doubted the existence of such an imminent threat, and had even cast allusions as to the state of Ana's sanity in his explanations of why he did not believe her tale.

Three, Ana had been gotten so angry that—when General Buck Scrape had been so unwise as to attempt to sedate and restrain her—she snapped and knocked out a good third of the Garrison before she escaped.

Four, no one was going to be following them because no one was going to remember any of the events of the evening. Her Gift had made sure of that!

By the time Ana had ranted and raged herself into exhaustion, the sun was just peaking over the eastern horizon. Illieno smiled and hummed to himself as he drew a blanket from Ana's saddlebag and draped it over her, then gently lifted her head to place another—rolled into a cylindrical cushion—beneath it.

Finally, he lay down himself, and with the sound of Ana's soft snores in his ears he drifted easily into sleep.

~ ~:~ ~


	61. The Silence Before the Storm

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Thank you to all of my reviewers! Your comments have rekindled the waning fire of my inspiration and motivation. Who needs boys when there are books to be read, stories to be told, coffee to be drunk and shoes to be purchased?

Lots of Love,

~Nessa'fur

PS: A special thank you to dares to dream for the awesome prank ideas. Am currently formulating stratagem for Operation Flux Truck...if all goes as planned, I will send you a link to the youtube video :)

Chapter Sixty: The Silence Before the Storm

On the fifth morning the wind died.

In the gray area between night and day, as the creatures of night sought refuge from their brilliant enemy and sun-worshipers began to stir from their dreams of day, the friendly, southerly breeze of the grasslands gave a shuttering gasp and expired. In the town called Isthma by some and the Thaylian Outpost by others, a woman at the end of a long and arduous labor uttered a defeated wail as her life was suddenly snatched away in a violent rush of blood and placenta. Her cry of horror was echoed as the old mid-wife beheld the fruit of the dead woman's labor: a twisted and deformed mockery of infancy, with the sharp, bloody teeth of a carnivore and skin blackened and burned, as if the child had been roasted in the fires of hell. The animals of the town took up the deathly cry and passed it on, their bestial howls and screams erupting into a terrible symphony that echoed through the empty streets and made the townspeople shiver in their sleep. At the same moment, in the town garrison, a solemn old soldier standing sentry began to moan and tremble as if from a fever, but when his fellow watchman reached out to touch him, the old man's skin was as cold and icy as a Mid-winter morn. "The silence before the storm!" he shouted and died.

Ana awoke with a gasp, the dead man's last words ringing in her ears. The prairie was silent around her, the pre-dawn stillness undisturbed by cricket calls or the rustlings of small animals stirring from their slumber. A shiver ran through her as she looked around at the unearthly stillness of the grasslands. She closed her eyes, listening to the blood pounding in her ears. The shapes on the backs of her eyelids flickered, resolving into a terrible face, which snarled at her, revealing the inferno captured in its maw.

Her eyes snapped open, dispelling the evil face.

Beside her, Illieno was tossing restlessly, moaning in his sleep. Ana reached a hand out and tapped him on the shoulder. "It is time," she said quietly.

Illieno opened his eyes, and for a moment she saw the reflection of his nightmares shining in them; they looked like shadows of her own.

Illieno rolled out of his blankets, quietly and calmly folding them into his bedroll. Ana turned to do the same, amazed at his impassivity. She felt like screaming, like running in circles tearing out her hair. Her muscles were tight, tense in anticipation, and she felt the beginnings of what felt like a truly mind-blowing headache. But she followed Illieno's example, and between them they quickly broke camp, leaving behind only broken stalks of grass to attest to their passing.

She tightened Firedance's girths and double-checked that the saddlebags were hanging properly with grim precision. Then she swung into the saddle, adjusting the way that Thunder hung across her back. Her mind was blessedly numb, allowing her body to make the necessary motions without torturing her with depressing thoughts about what the hell they were riding toward.

She turned Firedance's nose north, urging her into a steady trot. They still had many miles to cover before the day ended, but Ana knew that there was a battle at the end of this day's journey and she did not want to arrive at it with an exhausted horse beneath her. Illieno and Eclipse kept pace next to her, the grass parting smoothly beneath Eclipse's hooves.

In the distance, Ana could see the jagged line of the Tusaine Mountains. Their peaks reached into the sky, mingling with the dark thunderhead that hovered around it, threatening to spill over their tops and rage, unhindered, across the plain. Lighting danced and played in the dark cloud, flashing out, on occasion, to strike at a rocky peak.

She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of dried meat as she watched the storm approach. If her calculations were correct, the storm would break over the valley before the Gateway to the North only a few hours after they arrived. She prayed that they made it there before the storm, for she knew without knowing how that Li Dubyn's army followed close behind it.

They rode steadily all day, with the mountains and the storm at their peak looming larger and larger with every passing hour. The sun made its steady way over their heads and down their left flanks, undaunted by the clouds that reached down from the north to swallow its progress across the sky. Finally, as the sun sank across the western horizon, they crested a hill and beheld the valley before them. The sun's dying rays bathed the mountain sides in a ruddy light, highlighting the split between two peaks where the Gate of the North stood in silent sentry. In front of them the valley sloped sharply downward, until it collided with the wall of the mountains. The valley was overflowing with the wildflowers of spring, the quiet beauty of the flowers a stark contrast to the hulking mountains with their stormy crown.

In her mind's eye, Ana could see a dark mass moving through the mountains, approaching like midnight across the rugged land.

Firedance reared beneath her, screaming her challenge to the storm that waited. "Get down you idiot," Ana snapped. Firedance landed lightly, prancing to left as she tossed her head around to eye Ana. Next to her Illieno sat quietly surveying the valley, while Eclipse chewed his bit and pawed the ground.

"They will be here with the dawn," Illieno said calmly, like he was announcing the arrival of visitors that were overdue.

Ana sighed, a long release. "Then tomorrow we will blow the horn and see what answers its call."

~:~

In her dreams, Ana watched the approaching army. They made their way through a narrow pass, with sheer cliffs that reached up into the sky on either side. The passage twisted and turned, narrowing in some places so closely that only one or two riders could squeeze through, while at others it widened enough to let twenty men pass abreast.

The army seemed to boil its way through the pass, writhing and convulsing like a living thing. Creatures with strangely misshapen bodies and too many limbs crawled over each other, scrambling to find purchase on the path as they roiled their way through the mountains. At their head a darkly handsome man rode a creature shaped like a horse, but with black iridescent scales and a face that was pointed and tapered like a snake's. Its forked tongue flickered into the air, tasting the atmosphere.

Above them the storm raged; lightning flickering and flashing as the thunder crackled close behind it. A jagged fork of electricity streaked toward the earth, striking in the midst of the writhing mass of monsters. The horrible cries of pain were drowned by the thunderous boom that quickly followed, its echoes reverberating though the pass.

Then the scene abruptly changed, and she was looking into the flames of a fire, where two shadowy figures sat silhouetted in the flickering flames. Though she saw nothing but the fire and the two men before it, she could hear the soft jangle of tack and the occasional shuffle of restless horses. Then a third figure materialized from the shadows beyond the fire. The flames threw his severe features into sharp relief, highlighting the deep shadows beneath his eyes. Around his neck hung a leather thong with a large red stone suspended on it; the gem's facets caught the light of the fire, throwing bloody reflections.

"They will be here with the dawn," Will said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Ana woke with a gasp, her eyes snapping open. She looked up into the darkest sky she'd ever seen, evil-looking clouds seeming to boil above her. No rain yet fell, but the wind whipped against her face. It hissed and spit at her, tangling her hair into hopeless snarls as it coiled around her.

She scrambled upright, stumbling as her legs caught in her blankets. She snatched them up, rolling them into a tight bundle as she walked toward the crest of the hill where Illieno sat cross-legged, his twin dirks balanced on his kneecaps.

Firedance and Eclipse stood quietly at his left hand, their ears quirked forward as they listened to the northern wind. Firedance whinnied as she approached, trotting forward to nudge her arm. Ana ran a hand along her nose, then quickly tucked the bundle of her blankets into the bedroll that hung from the saddle. She untied Thunder, then Naethus from where they were strapped to the saddle, slinging them over her shoulders in a familiar movement. Finally, she reached up and unhooked the brass-bound horn from where it hung over the pommel. Its slight weight was heavy in her hands.

Ana strode over to where Illieno still sat. She looked at the Gate of the North, as he did, her eyes searching for the first signs of the coming army, even as her mind's eye tracked their approach.

"It's now or never," she muttered to the little brass-bound horn.

~:~

Illieno watched as Ana drew in a deep breath and put her lips to the Horn.

The sound that erupted from it was less like something that could be heard with his ears and more like a force that could be felt with his mind; a great sense of power built around them, growing and expanding like a living thing. He could feel it stirring, like a creature long dormant rearing its mighty head. Its vibrations split the air, spreading around him like a mighty river overflowing its banks and raging unchecked through the valley beyond. Beneath its power the evil northern wind shattered, hissing and screeching as it failed.

Ana lowered the horn from her lips, but the sound-that-was-not-a-sound went on, echoing around them. It faded slowly, reluctantly, but die it did, leaving behind an unearthly silence in its wake.

Seconds turned to minutes as he and Ana looked out over the valley, where Li Dubyn's army would soon pour through the gap in the mountains.

He let out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when Ana blew the horn, but surely _something else _was supposed to happen…

A horse nickered from behind him and Illieno whirled, startled by the sound.

There, arrayed in five glittering ranks of ten men apiece, was a small army of men and women on horseback. They seemed to shimmer in the twilight of the storm, as if they were not really substantial at all, but merely mirages conjured to fool hopeful minds.

At the front of the army sat seven riders, seven riders whose solemn faces were as familiar to him as his own mother's.

"Goddess," Illieno breathed, "The Seven Protectors."

~ ~:~ ~


	62. The Storm Breaks

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Sorry for the delay, my cupcakes! Thanks for sticking in there with me, you rock rock rock. Right now I'm off to put the finishing touches on the next chapter, so look for that tomorrow or Friday at the LATEST. If I can make it through the next few chappies it is pretty much smooth sailing right on to...THE END! So close, yet so far! :]

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Sixty-one: The Storm Breaks

Karma's heart pounded in her chest, a raging rhythm that sent waves of adrenaline coursing through her veins in steady, thumping bursts. Beneath the heavy armor, her muscles trilled in anticipation, though she kept them still with stern discipline, even as she schooled her features into a mask of calm determination.

This was it, the end point of all her plotting and planning, the consummation of months—nay, a lifetime—of work. She had practiced her role endlessly in the last ten days, sleeping sparingly and only when it became completely necessary, rehearsing until it became second nature to speak, to move, to _think_ just so. She felt, now, as if there were two of her. One, who walked and talked and moved her body about with perfect control and authority; the person who could say what needed to be said, do what needed to be done, perform the part that needed to be performed. And then there was the one who stood back to observe the act, the part of her that was still _her_ and could tremble and fret and worry that the actress would fail, that the vision would fade, that this world would end.

For despite all of her preparations, there could truly be no dress rehearsal for the performance she was about to give. The curtain would fall, one way or another.

Behind her, the ranks of the King's Own were arrayed in all their glory, row upon row of immaculate horseflesh and men in blue tunics with the silver blade and crown of Tortall emblazoned on their chests. Beyond the Own, knights, men-at-arms, and various volunteers from all walks of life lined up in neat formation, their faces turned toward the vanguard, where the King sat next to the Lord Commander of the King's Own, with the Honor Guard close behind.

Though she could not see them from her place at the head of the Grimmold Pass, Karma knew that there were also Tortallian forces in both the City of the Gods and the treacherous sides of the two peaks which guarded the way into her homeland.

Above them the sky boiled, frothing and churning with an angry fury. Lightning played tag with the thunder, and though no rain yet fell, Karma could feel the tension in the air rising. She knew it would not be long before the sky opened up, even as she knew it would not be long before the Scanrans descended upon them.

Out of the corner of her eye, Karma caught a signal flashing from the direction of the ruins; a pulsing, blue light that played briefly in the heights above the pass.

Her cue, come at last.

The observer-Karma sent a silent plea to the Goddess, even as the actor-Karma unsheathed her long sword, pointing it toward the raging heavens.

For a moment—the tiniest, briefest moment imaginable—Karma faltered, and her calm mask wavered. Then Karma felt a strong, soothing touch upon her shoulders, and a voice in her ears that spoke with all the reassurance of a mother's love, _It is time, my child. The show must go on._

"The show must go on," Karma whispered, and then there was no more room for thought, only action. Her body moved of its own accord, her mouth spoke, her sword flashed in gesture.

Her gaze found one of the Honor Guard, a slim, dark-haired man whose face was as familiar to her as her own. Her brother sat in the saddle with his shoulders thrown back and his chin high as he carried the standard of the Kings of Tortall. The observer behind the actor's mask noted the fierce pride and awe that welled in his eyes with professional satisfaction—for here was one who could appreciate the true scope of her performance. And when Karma turned her eyes to Lucas and found the same look on the Lord Commander's face, she knew that everything would be all right, come what may.

~:~

Ana stared into a face that was startlingly like Will's, despite the older man's pale skin and rather over-grown salt and pepper goatee. He sat with the exact same quiet dignity on a stallion that could have been Darkness's brother, his face molded into a familiardeadpan expression.

On his head lay the shadow of a golden crown, the gems catching and throwing the reflections of lighting in the distance.

Then he smiled at her, and his smile held the wisdom of many years hard experience.

Will's smile was different.

_Where did that thought come from, _Ana wondered, even as her body sank automatically into the bow of a Thaylian courtier before the King of a foreign land. _Marghi would be proud, _Ana thought, as she bowed her head, _all those years of drilling about court manners actually did rub off. Meet a King, bow to him first to show humility._

"Rise, Champion," Jonathon of Conté said, his baritone voice ringing with authority. "We have come to your call."

Ana straightened, looking him in the eye. His eyes were blue sapphires, so similar, but different as well. Ana wrenched her mind away from a dangerous line of thought, forcing herself to look away before she started staring.

The woman at King Jonathon's right hand was breath-taking in her vivid beauty; hair black as ink twined about her head in a twisted mass that framed a heart-shaped face, the skin as smooth and pale as porcelain. Sensuous lips of ruddy scarlet and green-hazel eyes ringed with thick, coal-colored lashes painted a picture of feminine perfection that surpassed any Ana had ever beheld. She could see why Queen Thayet had been called, "the Peerless"; there was a lively intelligence in her gaze, steel in the set of her jaw, and her strong nose lent her other-wise flawless features an interesting edge that made her beauty believable.

Queen Thayet inclined her head to Ana, the move filled with such grace and dignity that Ana was left momentarily breathless. Then the illusion was shattered as Thayet winked, and Ana caught a trace of wicked humor belied by the quirk at the corner of the Queen's mouth.

The woman who sat next to the Queen on a study little pony was night to Thayet's day; if the Queen was silk-covered-steel, then this woman was a meat-cleaver, crude but deadly. Her golden brown skin was scarred in several places, and her firm-mouth and piercing black eyes suggested a no-nonsense attitude. Her nose was short, her cheekbones high and her chin square. Her brown tunic was trimmed in gold and was emblazoned with a crimson horse rearing on a bronze-colored field. Ana did not recognize the insignia, but she could guess its meaning, for though the Queen's Riders had been disbanded long ago, the legends of their former commander Buriam Tourakom of the K'mir had lived on.

Buri's serious façade broke as she met Ana's gaze, her small teeth flashing in a grin that was fierce and proud. Ana found herself grinning back, unable to resist the unspoken promise in that smile.

Her grin widened as she took in the giant of a man looming next to Buri Tourakom; the man who could be no other than her husband, Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, who had led the King's Own as Knight Commander in his time. She had heard much of Raoul of Goldenlake's massive proportions, and was tickled to find that the legends did not exaggerate; on the back of his great charger he towered over the rest of them, his broad, ruddy face a full head higher than any other. Meeting his dark eyes, Ana saw clearly that this was a man used to leadership; his gaze was powerful and direct, and his grin held a challenge that made Ana want to prove herself.

The rider on the other side of Raoul, and the last person on the King's right, was probably quite tall and broad, though it was hard to tell in the shadow of the mammoth Knight Commander. She sat quite composedly on the back of her gelding, her hazel eyes alert and intelligent and her face serious. Ana's grin faltered for a moment as she realized that the brown-haired woman was sizing her up, but then Keladry of Mindelan—for it must be she, called "the Protector of the Small"—smiled. Such was the slow, satisfied grin that Ana felt a blush rising in her cheeks.

She dropped her gaze from the Ladyknight's, her eyes racing back along the riders until it rested upon the man who rode to the left of King Jonathon. Numair Salmalin, the legendary wizard, was tall and lanky in almost comical proportions. His mop of black hair was drawn back from his dark face in a horse's tale, and his brown eyes sparkled as he flashed her a grin, revealing white, perfect teeth.

Ana's gaze did not linger on the gangly wizard, however, for her eye was drawn inexorably to the woman who sat on his left hand. She, herself, was small and slim, with storm-grey eyes and brown curls pinned tightly to her head. But it was neither her pragmatic appearance nor her equally practical attire that caught Ana's eye. It was the fact that she—and her horse—were surrounded by animals of all shapes, sizes, and species. Song birds perched on the woman's head, while a badger, two foxes, and a wildcat mingled between the hooves of her (obviously not skittish) mount. A ferret was draped around her neck, and an owl perched on her saddle horn. The air above her was filled with winged creatures of every sort, and in the distance Ana could see other animals approaching from the surrounding grasslands.

"The People of this land wish to fight in the coming battle," Daine the Wildmage said, serenely. "They know the evil that has awakened and would defend their territories from its menace."

Ana realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.

A chorus of chuckles drifted from the seven riders, led by the King and Queen. Abashed, Ana felt the blood flooding her cheeks as she murmured, "I would be very grateful for their assistance…as I am grateful for _your_ assistance. We need all the help we can get." She lifted her chin and smiled shyly. "You know, for a minute there I was afraid that horn was defective."

Her words incited a roar of laughter from Raoul and Buri, while Kel, Thayet, and Daine giggled more sedately. Jonathon's handsome face broke into wide smile, and though Numair scowled, his eyes twinkled with good humor.

"For such a little thing," Raoul chuckled, "she certainly has a big mouth."

"Puts me in mind of someone I knew once," Queen Thayet, chimed in.

Ana's grin was cut short by a thunderous boom that rent the air. The time for pleasantries was over.

"The Scanrans are nearly on top of us," Ana said, addressing them all. "I thought we'd try to hole them up here in the valley for as long as we can hold out."

"Nice plan," Illieno said. Ana jumped at the sound of his voice; she'd completely forgotten him standing next to her.

"Son of Tortall," King Jonathon said seriously, "This day you have been proven worthy of the knighthood of your country, for standing so bravely against the forces that move against our land."

Illieno knelt on the ground, his naked blades uplifted. "I have offered them before, but I will offer again, for never before have I used my blades in the company of such great people. It is my honor, to fight with you against the Scanrans who seek to destroy all that is Tortall."

"This is our battle," Numair Salmalin said grimly, "The against the same foe who betrayed us and attacked us in our time."

Illieno gaped at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" he stammered, "How?"

King Jonathon shook his head. "This is not the time for explanations. They will be here within the hour, I suggest we prepare."

Ana nodded. She turned to Firedance, checking her saddle, and running her fingers over her shoulders. "Are you ready, girl?" she asked. Firedance nodded her head and swung it around to look her in the eye. She held Firedance's gaze for a moment more, then gave her a swift hug around the neck. Then she turned from her horse, to find Illieno unsaddling Eclipse.

"What are you doing?" She asked, bewildered. "Shouldn't you be saddling him?"

Illieno winked at her. "My little talent has some pretty useful side effects," he said. "Turns out, whatever I touch with my bare skin becomes invisible too. I trained Eclipse to ride with me bareback from an early age, so that I could ride invisibly." He pointed to his breeches, which, Ana noticed for the first time, had flaps sewn into their inner seams. "As long as I'm touching him Eclipse becomes invisible too. We've done it countless times, and let me tell you, it's come in handy over the years."

Ana laughed, delighted by her friend's ingenuity. But then her smile hesitated and died away, replaced by a grimace. They piled their stuff behind one of the small boulder fields which littered the entrance to the valley. _They would provide a convenient place to retreat behind, if it came to that. _Ana thought grimly, as she slung the last saddle bag down. She made her way to the head of the valley, where Illieno and the Seven Protectors sat side by side, their horses tense, but still. Firedance stood in the middle of them, at the very crest of the hill, her front legs in the air as she let off her feelings.

She mounted Firedance, and then drew Thunder and Naethus free from their sheaths. She pointed them toward the Gateway to the North, their shining lengths reflecting the lightning from the storm as it broke overhead.

~ ~:~ ~


	63. Battle: Part One

Chapter Sixty-two: Battle: Part One

They came with the first drops of rain, spilling from the narrow gap between the mountains like blood seeping from a wound.

Once, when Ana had been a young girl, she had witnessed first-hand a levy breaking in the lowlands of northern Thaylia. It had been a year of record rainfall, when the rivers and dykes overflowed to swamp the fertile farmlands. Her brother had taken her along when he went to oversee the shoring up of one town's levy, which sheltered them from the yearly swelling of the Jade River. The townspeople had noticed several cracks in the levy's face, a sure sign that the excess water was stressing the structure, and her brother had been dispatched along with a crew of engineers and workmen. Ana had been allowed to tag along, to watch and learn, provided she stayed out from underfoot and out of the danger zone. At first, the trickle of water that seeped from the cracks had been barely noteworthy, but over time the cracks had widened and spread, until the structure reached a critical breaking point, and the pressure of the water became too great. Ensconced on the fifth story balcony of the town hall which overlooked the river, Ana and Darius had watched in horror and disbelief as the levy crumbled before their eyes, sweeping away the work crew and a good portion of the town in a gushing torrent of murky water.

Ana was reminded of that time as she sat poised on Firedance's back, watching the first of the Scanrans trickle through the Gateway to the North. She could not see them clearly, for it was as if they were obscured by a dark fog, but she caught glimpses of limbs overly long, of bodies humped and malformed, of gleaming fangs and spiny protrusions as they oozed toward her.

To her right, King Jonathon and his Queen were the focal point of a bristling formation of men in the blue tunics of the King's Own that included Raoul of Goldenlake, while beyond them Buriam Tourakom headed a squadron of female riders on sturdy, surefooted ponies. On Ana's left, Keladry of Mindelan sat at head of a motley crowd of fighters, next to a brown-haired man that Ana did not recognize. Numair and Daine were hidden among the boulders, along with a smattering of archers and a pair of mages, while Illieno and Eclipse were an invisible presence at her left flank. And everywhere Ana looked were animals, more animals than Ana would ever have imagined the grasslands to hold.

Together, they made a crescent, their ranks arrayed around one of the rounded plateaus that stepped their way down to the head of the valley.

Lightning danced in the air above them, lighting the valley in harsh bursts of blinding white that did nothing to illuminate the shadow of the Scanran horde.

She waited until they had quartered the distance between the Gate and her army before signaling the archers, feeling a pang of regret for the fact that she had left behind her own bow and quiver in her haste to leave the Tortallian Army.

But there was no time for should-have, could-have, for though a few of the shadows fell beneath the whizzing shafts with screeching cries that mingled with the jeering calls of attacking birds, the vast majority was still seething toward them, and more Scanrans were pouring from the pass at every moment.

A flicker of movement caught Ana's eye, and she looked left to meet the cool, hazel gaze of Keladry, Protector of the Small. "Shall we dance?" The brunette asked, twirling a strange pole-arm that consisted of a staff capped by a long metal blade. Her grin was so infectiously eager that Ana felt a similar smile pulling at her own lips.

Ana gave a smart nod, then looked right and caught the hard, sapphire gaze of King Jonathon. He inclined his head, and though he was out of earshot, Ana clearly heard his smooth baritone say, "Use the horn."

Without another thought, Ana rammed Thunder into her sheath, withdrawing the little brass-bound horn from its place around her neck. For the second time she put the horn to her lips and blew, unleashing that unearthly trill across the valley.

At the sound of the horn, the flow of Scanrans faltered for the first time. The shadowy mass seemed to contract onto itself, writhing like a wounded beast. For a moment, the dark fog parted to reveal men in patchwork armor and furs, armed with weapons ranging from long swords and rapiers to crude bludgeons and axes.

_So_, Ana thought, _they are human after all._

Then the sky opened up and rain spilled forth, drowning the horn's power in one mighty deluge. The black shroud closed again on the Scanrans as they advanced, howling their outrage, while water poured from the heavens.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the downpour tapered off. The air was alive with black fire riddled with white sparks, which seemed to soak into the clouds, holding back the rain which sought to blind their sight and turn the firm ground into a quagmire of treacherous mud.

Letting the horn fall back against her chest, Ana reached behind her and withdrew Thunder once more. For a moment she simply watched as the Scanrans frothed and writhed across the valley floor, but as the mass began to swarm up the incline of the hill she thrust her two swords high into the air and uttered the cry that had been building in her throat for hours.

"TORTALL!" Ana screamed, her cry echoed on either side.

Firedance surged forth, racing to downhill to collide with a roiling mass of shadows.

Her arms moved automatically to swing, to thrust, to parry. Naethus and Thunder flew around her like twin lightning bolts, striking down everything in their path. The shadows heaved and convulsed around Firedance's hooves, resolving into creatures that she had only ever imagined existed in nightmares and the minds of tortured men. Her faithful horse plowed through them all, weaving a path through the shadows with her sharp hooves.

A feeling of power built inside her, pounding inside her veins. It beat with the adrenaline that flooded her bloodstream, keeping perfect time with the thumping of her heart. She could feel her Gift spilling from her pours and hovering about her like a violet haze. The tingling sensation of magic flooded her awareness, growing hot and bright within her, till she felt like she must glow like a violet star.

On her left, she could see the shimmery form of Raoul of Goldenlake, his broadsword carving a wide swath as he bashed a Scanran off its mount with his shield. To her right was King Jonathon, his features set in a familiar scowl as he hacked and hewed. Queen Thayet fought closely next to him, shadowed by a protective circle of the King's Own, whose swords cleared the way for the King and his Queen.

Illieno was nowhere to be seen, but out of the corner of her eye, Ana could see Scanrans suddenly falling as though struck by an invisible blade.

A darker shadow swirled out of the horde in front her. Red eyes stared out of a reptilian face as its fiery tongue darted into the air. Steam billowed from the beast's nostrils, swirling around the horse-creature's scaly sides as it stepped toward her. Then its rider materialized from the shadows, his handsome face bared in a fierce grin.

It was Marc.

Anger turned Ana's vision red as she looked upon the handsome face of her former lover. The pain that she had felt for so long was washed away beneath the tide of fury that filled her. Then his face dissolved into another, which sneered at her with features just as handsome, but many times more menacing.

The Imp opened his mouth, revealing a fiery maw.

And he laughed.

The sound cut through the air like a knife, wounding her with its sharp peals. He laughed, and she felt his voice in her mind, ripping through her defenses.

_Did he hurt you little girl? _his voice hissed, _Did he hurt you even as you loved him? He never loved you, Champion. I was always his master._

Ana crossed her swords before her like a shield to keep his evil words at bay, her body flinching at the terrible sound of his voice.

Firedance reared beneath her, lashing out at the horse-creature with her hooves. She surged forward, harrying the Imp's mount with her bared teeth. Ana felt the echoes of the Imp's laughter reverberating through her mind, even as she swung Nathus at Li Dubyn's grinning face.

He parried her blow easily with his own sword, knocking aside her attack as if swatting away a fly.

_I called you here, Champion, _his awful voice said. _I called you here to kill you, even as my demons will kill your King. _

His words were swallowed beneath the great wave of anger that surged through her system. Her swords flashed as she attacked him ferociously, her face twisted into a furious scream. He laughed as he deflected her strikes, leering at her.

_You love him, _he said, _now watch him die. _

He held out his palm, and she was blasted with a shaft of dark energy that overwhelmed her defenses and turned her vision black.

_Will fought two enemies at once, his sword flashing between the demons that swooped down to attack. Lucas was close beside him, frantically fighting to keep three Scanrans from breaking through the Own's defenses and closing with the King. _

_The demons dived at Will simultaneously. He slashed at one of them, but the other dodged his shield and racked Will's left side with dagger-sharp claws. _

_Will cried out as he was knocked from Darkness's side._

_He stumbled to his feet, his armor askew and his features creased with pain as he lifted his shield to deflect the razor claws of the demon that dove at him. His sword flashed, and the creature let out a terrible shriek as Will's steel ripped through the fine membrane of its wing. It twisted in the air, ferociously clawing at him, but Darkness was there first, the stallion's hooves knocking the injured beast from the sky. _

_The second demon screeched as Will's sword ripped through its mate's throat, its nightmare face twisted with grief and anger. The wail built in volume and intensity, ringing out until man and monster alike cringed with the power of the demon's fury. _

_The maddened beast dove at Will, who braced himself, but at the last minute the demon swerved aside, barreling into Darkness as the stallion reared to protect his master. The demon avoided Darkness's thrashing hooves, slashing the warhorse's side and opening a gaping wound along his flank that fountained blood. Darkness bellowed in pain, coming down so hard that his left foreleg snapped, white bone protruding from blood-soaked skin. _

_Tears streamed down Will's cheeks as he swung wildly at the demon who returned to harry him from above, swooping low then retreating as the fiend sought an opening in Will's defense. His attention focused on the demon, Will did not see the gangly, sharp-toothed figure that slipped past Lucas until it was too late. _

_Will tried to twist, to get his shield up in time to parry the Scanran's thrust, but the creature was too fast. Will's blue eyes widened in shock as the Scanran's rapier slipped into the place where breastplate and pauldron met on his left side; the place where the demon had ripped a gap in his armor. _

_The creature's head exploded in a concussion of brain and bile as Lucas's broadsword ripped through it, even as Will's knees buckled. The King of Tortall looked up at his Lord Commander, a plea on his face. Blood wept from the wound in his side, where the rapier still protruded. _

"_Ana," Will mouthed, and then the light in his eyes flickered and died. _

Ana screamed.

The scream ripped from her lips, shattering the darkness that obscured her vision and clouded her mind. Her shrill cry built, growing higher as she felt the power tearing through her body. It would split her open from its searing pain, roast her from its great heat, burn her to a fiery crisp.

_Will, _she thought, _help me. _

And then—for the briefest of moments—she saw his clear, sapphire gaze looking at her, lending her strength and determination once again. His eyes were the blue of the ocean on a clear day, their brilliant depths only hinting at the power and mystery of the world that lay beneath them. She could see tranquil waters in his eyes, though all around her was a dark, violent sea. She felt the angry waves breaking around her, seeking to pull her down, down beneath their murky depths, but they were held at bay—repelled by a force greater than their own.

The magic exploded from her body, fueled by the searing power of her scream, and then the world went black around her.

~ ~:~ ~


	64. Battle: Part Two

Chapter Sixty-three: Battle: Part Two

From his vantage point high in the City of the Gods, Will looked out over Tortall. His gaze swept over hill and forest and field, objectively admiring the curvature of the land as he inventoried every rock and tree and flower. His fingers in his pocket brushed over the smooth surface of the Dominion Jewel, feeling the warmth of it pulsing like a beating heart, just as he _felt_ the vibrant, living pulse of his country throbbing in his consciousness.

The land did not know itself by any particular name; it did not say _Tortall_ as its people did, but it was alive and aware nonetheless. In every stone, every blade of grass, every trickling brook, soaring mountain and sweep of desert sand was a presence and a power, an identity. It extended into the people and animals that walked, that flew, that swam and slithered and crawled, weaving a vivid tapestry of life. With his senses enhanced by the Dominion Jewel, Will could feel the woven strands of the tapestry that was Tortall; feel the way that everything was connected.

While Will watched, the sun rose reluctantly over the eastern horizon, painting the landscape in bloody tones. And as the ruddy light spilled over the land, the humming presence stuttered and faded away, leaving behind a hushed tension that extended from horizon to horizon.

Tortall was holding its breath.

For one moment longer Will lingered, his eyes searching the hills to the southeast as his hand unconsciously rose up to grasp the red stone that hung around his neck. Then he seemed to come to himself and his hand dropped to his side once again, his fingers clenching into a fist as he turned his back to the land that he loved more than life and looked upon his destiny.

Darkness.

Darkness and shadow, creeping across the mountains. Darkness that seethed with a tangible malice; roiling and convulsing through the pass in the wake of the massive thunderhead that rolled through the heavens, its shadowy mass punctuated by violent bursts of lightning.

Will watched the darkness descending upon Tortall and wished he could bring himself to care.

Months of planning, of subtle maneuvering and blatant action had culminated in this moment. Far below him, where the Grimmold Pass narrowed to edge by the City of the Gods, the bulk of the army of Tortall was lined up in orderly ranks, with the King's Own at the forefront. On the mountain sides to his right, a few tell-tale flashes of color gave evidence to the archers and mages assembled there, and though he saw no sign of the men hidden among the ruins of the City, he knew that they waited there, poised for ambush.

Tortall stood ready for battle, and he, its King, was exiled to this forsaken aerie, his role reduced to observer in the greatest trial that Tortall would ever face. He could not even communicate with his generals, for the magic that permeated the area around the City of the Gods prevented any type of scrying or magical communication.

It was the perfect irony; so perfect, indeed, that Will wondered which of the Gods he had offended.

For surely only Divine meddling could have set up events with such sadistically comedic timing. After all, they had sent him the Lioness's heir, to stir up hope and pride in his people only to have her forsake them all at the crucial moment. And who was he left with? Karma. Karma, with her visions of the future, her bold propositions and her tricky illusions. Karma, the third member of that Trio which had taken so much from him. Apparently, it was not enough for Ana to have stolen his hopes, his dreams, and his best friend. It was not enough for Illieno to destroy his pride and dignity before abandoning him. Not enough, for apparently it was his destiny to lose everything he most cherished, down to his very self.

How could he have said no to Karma's proposal? Logically it made perfect sense. After all, as Lucas had repeatedly pointed out, as King he was too important to lose.

As King, he was also expected to lead his people in this battle; to be the first among the fighters at the vanguard. Well, his people would not be disappointed. As far as most of them knew that was him on his horse, wearing his armor, with his sword at his side.

And though he felt naked without Darkness and Darkfire, though he was awkward and uncomfortable in his borrowed leather armor, Will could summon no anger, no resentment at being so left out of events, so stripped of his importance, his identity. Though he had invested more than any in this venture, he felt no pride in watching his plans unfold and no anxiety over whether or not they would be successful.

For those plans, the result of endless negotiations and secret conspiracies, were merely a distraction. Will's true strategy was known only to him.

The first fingers of cloud reached out into the sky above him, draining the color from the land beneath their stormy legions. Judging the time to be ripe, Will gave the signal to Karma, a shower of blue sparks which winked briefly in the dark sky.

Below him, he watched as Karma unsheathed Darkfire, holding the long sword aloft with all the pride and dignity of royalty.

It was an easy spell, to mimic the sound of someone else's voice, elementary to every mage with even a hint of the Gift. Not as easy to capture, however, is the tenor and cadence of an individual's speech. But Karma had gotten his style of elocution down so perfectly that he was momentarily disoriented, hearing his voice speaking words which his lips had never tasted. With every line she uttered he became more and more unhinged. Eerie, it was, for though he was too distant to see his own features pasted onto Karma's face, he could see the way she gestured and steered Darkness with her knees as she rallied Tortall. Was that what he looked like, when he spoke to his people? Did he always move with such pride, such casual arrogance?

A strange thing happened then, while Will listened to his words pouring from Karma's mouth. Emotion stirred in his chest, breaking through the icy numbness that had for so long pervaded his being.

But unlike the men below him—who yelled and cheered as Karma's speech came to an end—it was not hope that flared in his breast, but rather despair of a frightening intensity.

_Karma makes a better King than I do, _Will thought, _for she put into my voice all of the power, all of the passion and the urgency that I cannot muster. I could not have stirred them as she has, for surely they would have heard the lie in my speech, seen the betrayal in my gestures. _

For—no matter what the Gods might have planned for him, no matter what he told Lucas and Karma and his commanders—Will had no intention of just sitting back and watching while his people died and the Scanrans overran his country. He had plans of his own.

If he could have thought of a way, Will would have sent his people home, home to their families and their businesses and their lives, but here all of his previous successes had worked against him. Before, he had been too convincing, too persuasive. His people were determined to fight.

So he would give them what they wanted—a chance to defend their homeland with their lives—and then he would end it, and give them an even greater gift: the opportunity to live out those lives knowing that they had earned their freedom.

The dark mass of the Scanran army swarmed through the final turn of the pass, spilling into the open ground between the mountains like a tidal wave breaking over the land. From his place high above them all, Will could see how the Scanran horde extended back into the range for miles upon miles. In comparison, the force that stood against them looked absurdly puny and insignificant. Yet, despite the fact that they were clearly outnumbered, the Tortallians did not flinch away from the writhing shadows. There were a few uneasy eddies in the ranks as they looked upon their enemy for the first time, but no one broke and ran. The people of Tortall had passed the first test of their courage.

For a few moments that seemed to span an eternity, nothing and no one moved except that billowing throng of darkness.

Then the sword in Karma's fist dropped, and the air was suddenly alive with arrows.

Will felt a smile pulling at his lips as he listened to the horrible symphony of screams that rose from the Scanran forces. The unified mass of darkness seemed to crumble as destruction rained down from the mountainsides, and for the first time Will could see the individuals that made up Li Dubyn's army.

It was not a pretty sight.

Horny beasts with long shaggy fur and sharp, glittering fangs and claws; creatures with backs humped and twisted and limbs that were too long or too many; fiends with scales like a snake or the sharp, pointed beaks of raptors. It looked like every monster from every nightmare that man had ever dreamed was assembled there.

Despite the storm of arrows that fell like lightning from the sky, the Scanrans continued their advance, crawling over the corpses of their comrades as they surged toward where Karma, Lucas, and the King's Own waited with grim discipline. For a few tense moments, the people of Tortall stood frozen, and it seemed as if the Scanrans would wash them away with their ferocious attack.

Then Karma thrust Darkfire into the air and Will heard his voice ringing throughout the mountains, overshadowing the shrieks and moans of wounded and dying monsters.

"FOR TORTALL!" Karma cried, and Darkness lunged forward, the tip of a massive arrow of men and horses that sliced into the thrashing beasts with all the force of an avalanche.

For a few glorious minutes, the Scanrans retreated beneath the furious charge of Tortallians in the blue livery of the King's Own. But for every Scanran that fell there were hundreds to replace them, and it was not long before Karma and the Own were being pushed back by the sheer force of numbers. Soon they were fighting in the close confines alongside the ruins of the City, with only a few thousand feet between the Scanrans and the entryway into Tortall. The barrage of arrows had also slowed, as the archers took the time to select their individual targets, instead of shooting randomly into the mob. The supply of arrows would not last forever, so it was important not to waste them on far-fetched shots.

The Scanrans seemed to sense they were close to victory, for they sent up a mighty roar and pressed forward.

It was then that the lines of the King's Own broke, as men turned their horses around and fled at a gallop. Howling their victory, the Scanrans surged into the road that ran beside the ruins, the road that ran without break down into the foothills of Tortall.

Blinded by their apparent success, the Scanrans packed into the passage, fighting amongst themselves to be the first to break free into the southern lands. They did not see the reserve force that poured out of the ruins until it was too late. Like mice in a trap, the Scanrans were crushed between the wall of the mountain and the infantry who barreled down on them, led by Lord Clemens. Any who tried to run the gauntlet into Tortall found themselves confronted with a solid wall of knights and men-at-arms, who moved to the vanguard as the Own retreated, allowing them a rest from the fighting.

Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, Lord Clemens forces melted back into the ruins. Maddened by the slaughter of their countrymen, the Scanran force split, as a many of them charged into the ruins of the City of the Gods in pursuit of the elusive infantry.

They would find more than a few surprises waiting for them, for the entire City was booby-trapped. Pockets of former thieves, back-alley brigands, and mercenaries riddled the ruins, waiting to ambush any and all Scanrans that Lord Clemens had lured into the City with his ploy. In the meantime, Lord Clemens and his infantrymen were making their way to one of the two remaining exits out of the City of the Gods, to provide backup to the main force that would continue fighting in the narrow roadway.

Satisfied that phase one of his plans had been deployed with success; Will turned his attention to his own contribution to the battle.

For months, he had been working in secret on a spell—a spell that was to be his last defense against Li Dubyn and his horde, should his battle plans fail and the tide turn against them. The idea had come to him when he had listened to Lucas recite the story of King Jonathon IV's coronation day and the Lioness's battle with his cousin Roger of Contè. Since their return to Corus, Will had studied the spell that Duke Roger had used, hoping against hope that he could alter it so that it would work to their advantage. After repeated failures, Will had almost given up the hope that he could reign in the destructive power of the spell…then Ana had given him the Dominion Jewel and everything had fallen into place.

Of course, up until a few days ago, Will had planned on using the Gate of Idramm only as a desperate last ditch effort. Such a powerful spell could not work without sacrifice; he knew that the power needed to unleash the spell would surely consume its castor—but that fact no longer gave him pause. No longer did Will feel any drive to survive this fight. His instincts to self-preservation had forsaken him when the Gods—among others—had forsaken him.

The modified Gate needed to be drawn with absolute precision and accuracy, but Will had practiced so frequently that the ritualized movements were almost second nature to him now. Neither was he worried about being interrupted while he worked, for just beyond the place where he stood, the ruins of the City dropped away into a sheer cliff, plunging downward thousands of feet until it collided with the floor of the ravine. Perhaps sometime in the distant past, a part of the ruin had collapsed in an avalanche of rock and stone, or perhaps it had been designed that way by the wizards of old, but whatever the reason, the pavilion where Will stood was situated so as to give an unobstructed view of the surrounding land, while being sheltered from the hazards of both weather and attack. To his left, the vertical face of the mountain provided a natural barrier, while the sheer cliffs to the north and east made approach from that quarter all but impossible—unless, of course, one could fly. The only way to access the pavilion was from the south, where a winding staircase twisted and turned its way among broken pillars and shattered mosaics. But no one would be disturbing his vigil from that quarter either, for earlier Will had riddled the staircase with traps and snares, courtesy of his Gift. It was the perfect place for him to fulfill his private mission, as he had known from the moment he first happened upon it in his initial explorations of the City of the Gods.

It seemed to take ages for him to finish the scrolling loops and curls of the pattern, but when Will finally straightened and turned back to check on the progress of the battle, he found very little changed. The knights of Tortall still held the pass, despite the seemingly endless flood of Scanrans. The attackers were hindered by the mounting piles of the bodies of those who had come before, which created a buffer between the two forces—it was a vile and bloody barrier, but it forced the Scanrans to clamber over and around it, which slowed them down considerably, giving the Tortallians time to react to the changing flows of battle.

Flashes of multi-colored light and explosions gave evidence that the second phase of his plan had been deployed, as the mages on the mountainsides added their individual touches to the chaotic mass that frothed in the bowl-shaped ravine before the City.

Will frowned as he surveyed the battle with a dispassionate eye. He saw no obvious signs of weakness in the Tortallian forces, but nevertheless a sense of unease stirred in his breast.

Something was not right.

But he had no chance to pinpoint the source of the foreboding that so disturbed him, for a quiet sound from behind him made his blood run cold.

He turned slowly, careful not to disturb the whorls and loops of the spell he had drawn around him in the white powder commonly called sorcerers' sand.

The man who stood studying the Gate of Idramm was solidly built; his face grizzled and scarred from experience. Like Will, he wore sturdy leather armor that allowed freedom of movement, though unlike Will—who carried only a pair of long daggers—the man was armed from ankle to armpit. He looked thoughtfully at the drawn spell for a moment more, then raised his dark eyes to meet Will's with deliberate force.

"Tohmas asked me to look in on ye," Johnny Bones, the so-called King of Thieves, said in his rough baritone. "Sounded concerned he did. Thought you might be up to some mischief." He smiled, revealing teeth stained and rotted, and spread his arms wide, "He said since mischief is my specialty I was uniquely qualified to assess the situation—his words, of course, not mine. I would'a been by sooner, but I had to spend some time admiring the lovely booby-traps all along yonder staircase. I'd like to shake the hand of the man who laid 'em; tis been ages since I've had me talents tested so."

"How did he know?"Will said quietly.

Johnny Bones raised his eyebrows. "Did you think you could hide that behemoth of a spell you were cooking up beneath our very noses? Your head mage may be blinded by inexperience and naïve faith in his King, but us oldsters know better." The King of Thieves shook his head, walking around the outside edge of the Gate until he stood looking out over the battle that raged below. "Who hasn't daydreamed about going out in a blaze of glory, about bravely sacrificing themselves for the girl, or the cause, or the country?" He turned his hard, brown gaze back on Will, "We all do it from time to time, especially when we don't get our way."

"I'm sorry," Will broke in, fighting to keep the annoyance from his voice, "But this isn't exactly the best time for a philosophy lesson. If you haven't noticed there is a war going on down there."

"You know, I _had_ noticed," Johnny Bones returned, with infuriating levity. "We seem to be doing rather well, don't you think?"

Will turned back to the battle, his gaze sweeping over two forces arrayed below. The truth of the statement slammed into him with all the force of a whizzing arrow. The Rogue was right, they _were_ doing well. Too well.

"Goddess!" Will cursed, "Why didn't I see it before?" He looked around frantically, but there was nothing he could do, no warning he could give.

Johnny Bones frowned at him. "What are you going on about, lad?"

"Why are we doing so well?" Will countered, furiously trying to come up with a way to send a message to Harrison. He could not use magic, and there was an army between him and the forces on the mountainsides.

The King of Thieves studied the battle below him for a few moments, then said, "I'm no expert on military strategy, but I would say tis cause our mages are wreaking havoc in that big group of 'em, so they can't swarm up and overwhelm the fighters in the pass and the City."

"Very good," Will murmured. "Now answer me this: _where are their mages? _We know they have them, so where are they? Why aren't they engaging our people? _And what are they doing in the mean time?_"

The gratification Will felt in watching Johnny Bone's jaw drop was fleeting. For another, more terrifying thought had just occurred to him.

_Where was Li Dubyn?_

~:~


	65. Battle: Part Three

Chapter Sixty-four: The Battle: Part Three

Johnny Bones had seen a lot of death in his life. It was impossible not to, growing up in the back alleys and slums of an empire on the wane. He had killed his first man at age thirteen, and in the years since he had sent his fair share of souls to the Black God. He was familiar with fighting, with the blood rage that transformed men into monsters able to rape, to pillage, to murder. He had known sociopaths who relished the suffering of others, and thieves who stole food from the starving. He had seen innocents slaughtered for no better reason than the fact that they were different, that they could not fit into the mold that society expected of them.

But nothing in his experience had prepared him for the Scanrans.

It was horrifying, watching the malformed creatures that battled his countrymen. It was horrifying, for in the Scanran army he could see all of the worst parts of humanity portrayed in their thrashing limbs, their contorted bodies, their twisted, snarling faces.

He could see the spells that had warped them, for he had been born with the ability to See magic. Though it was not his Sight which told him how and for what purpose the spells were constructed. That was an ability he had won after many hard years of work and study. Always, he had been grateful for his Sight, his Gift and his training, for they had saved his life on innumerable occasions and allowed him to retain his Kingship over the darker side of Tortall when men younger and more ambitious than he had sought to steal his position.

But now—for the first time—he wished that his talent lay in some other specialty, for it was terrible to look upon the Scanrans and See that their deformations were a merely a physical manifestation of the malice hidden within their souls. They had been men once and were men still, men whose inner evil had been allowed to emerge and flourish by the perverted magic of their leader.

The magic of _his_ leader was a very different thing.

Will was undoubtedly the most Gifted King that Tortall had seen in a millennium, perhaps even longer. His use of magic was ingenious, for—though he had enormous power at his disposal—his true talent lay in finding new and creative ways to utilize the Gift. Johnny thought that he had learned more about the Gift by disarming Will's traps than he had in the years he had spent as an apprentice mage. The power invested in them had been minimal, but they had been constructed in such a cunning and clever way that—even able to See how they were put together—Johnny Bones had come close to incinerating himself at least a half-dozen times in his attempts to disable them. Only caution and experience had saved him, but—though he had been successful at getting past them—he still felt he had failed.

After all, Tohmas had been very clear in his instructions: Will must not be allowed to draw the Gate of Idramm.

In the days leading up to the battle unfolding below him, it had become more and more obvious to Johnny Bones that Will was planning something—something _besides_ all of the battle plans being hammered out during those obnoxious interludes with his advisors. Being the man that he was, it didn't take Johnny long to ferret out the plot involving Karma as a body-double. The weak-link in that conspiracy had been Karma's brother Gregory, who had been an occasional business associate of Johnny and the Court of the Rogue. The lad had given up his knowledge of the affair without much fuss, once he was reminded of several outstanding debts he owed.

But though Johnny had never _met_ Will until just a few weeks ago, he had been studying the man since long before the day Will had ascended the throne. He felt, privately, that he knew Will's style, and was suspicious that Will would agree to such an arrangement. Will was the lead-by-example type, and for him to suddenly revert to cowering on the sidelines was enormously out of character.

And if he had learned anything after five years of ruling the most unruly portion of the population, it was that when people acted out of character there was _always_ a reason for it.

So, to assuage his burning curiosity, Johnny Bones had swallowed his pride and done the one thing he had sworn never to do since the day he had walked away from his apprenticeship and returned to his home in the slums of Corus.

He went to ask Tohmas's opinion of the matter.

His former master had not even blinked an eye when Johnny barged into his tent with his two ever present body-guards. The old man had been immersed in a book—no surprises there—and he had made a point of finishing whatever passage he was reading before he acknowledged Johnny's presence.

It was just as if the intervening twenty years had never happened, for Tohmas said, "Good, you are here, Johnauld. I expected you sooner, but now that you have arrived we can get started." He had gone on to answer all of Johnny's suspicions with his characteristic thoroughness, even going so far as to scold Johnny for not noticing the accumulation of power around the King's tent and how it had been amplified exponentially once a certain red-headed Thaylian had ridden out of the picture. The truth of the situation was obvious enough, once Tohmas had pointed it out to him.

There was nothing for it; the old man had an uncanny ability to read people. He had known that Johnny would seek him out again someday and he had known that Will would resort to desperate measures if he was allowed to be alone during the battle. He had even known that Johnny would follow his suggestions (he didn't believe in issuing orders) without question or hesitation. Johnny had taken the books that Tohmas had given him and spent the previous days studying up on magical traps and the Gate of Idramm.

He had studied the Gate mostly out of curiosity, for not once did he imagine that Will would have time to implement the spell before Johnny intervened.

He had to admit though; it was a beautiful piece of work.

From his place in the middle of the design, the King of Tortall was the central axis of a swirling vortex of color and light. The whorls and loops on the ground were only a piece of the puzzle, for with his Sight, Johnny could see the invisible strands of magic that wove together in shimmering lines that spun and whirled in a dazzling display. Having done so much studying of the original, Johnny could easily spot the adjustments that Will had made to the spell. It took him a bit longer to decipher what those modifications meant, but when it finally clicked in his mind; Johnny Bones couldn't help but be awed.

It was genius. Will had tied the spell to the Dominion Jewel in such a way that the Gate would exclude any of the area recognized by the Jewel, confining its destructive power to the land that lay _outside_ of Tortall, namely the two mountains directly north of the City of the Gods. It explained a lot, including why Will had posted his archers only on the face of the mountains that extended into Tortall.

He watched the Gate surreptitiously as he studied the King's face. Normally, Will was an expert at schooling his features, but now all facades had been wiped away and his emotions were clearly legible.

Johnny Bones had seen that same look of desperation on men's faces before, and it never boded well. Perfectly calm and rational men became erratic and unpredictable when pushed past their limits; from the looks of it, he thought Will was fast approaching his breaking point.

"The mages on the mountainsides should be warned," Johnny said, more to keep Will talking than to be helpful or informative. "Too bad this gods-forsaken City prevents magical communication…"

Will started violently, and Johnny Bones felt panic rise up in his throat, but the King merely turned to him and said, "He's not here." His voice was lifeless, devoid of any emotion.

"What?" Johnny stuttered, confused but relieved that Will hadn't activated the Gate.

"Li Dubyn," said Will in that dead tone. "He is not here."

Johnny Bones stared. "How do you know?" he whispered.

Will turned to look over at the battle, his face hard as stone.

"They are taking too long to react," he said. "Li Dubyn is a master of strategy, he might have succumbed to my tactics for a short while, but he would have quickly recovered and mounted a counter-strategy of his own. Look at the way they are attacking—there is no organization to it; they are just swarming us with superior numbers, which they can't even _do_ anymore because the pass is half-blocked with bodies. And it explains why their mages aren't attacking—they must have been paralyzed when they realized they could not communicate with their leader."

Something that had been bothering Johnny Bones since he had first approached Will suddenly became clear. He had wondered why Will hadn't simply activated the Gate of Idramm immediately after he had finished it—he had had time enough. But the look on Will's face as he spoke gave clear evidence to the reason: he had been waiting for Li Dubyn to make an appearance. Fear rose up in Johnny Bones' gullet, fear that made his stomach churn and boil with dread. For if Li Dubyn was not here, _then what reason did Will have to wait?_

"Maybe," said Johnny Bones, fumbling for a stalling tactic, "maybe, he just wants you to think he isn't here…"

"No_._" Will said, with a quiet force that made Johnny Bones hands tremble. "Ana was right; he must have split his forces." He paused, and then he turned to meet Johnny's gaze. The emptiness that stared out from Will's blue eyes was more terrible than the nightmare creatures which swarmed the valley below them. "I sent her away to die," he whispered, and his voice broke on the last word.

At an utter loss for words, Johnny was saved from having to reply by a commotion below them. The sound of the battle changed with a suddenness that instantly drew both men's attention.

They looked out over the battlefield, frowning in tandem as they noticed how the air seemed to pulse with a ghostly glimmer. Then the world exploded into a cacophony of sound and light.

Johnny Bones was looking in just the wrong place, so he was blinded as the twilight beneath the roiling storm clouds was obliterated by the throbbing radiance of magic. Blinking rapidly, to clear away the spots that wanted to linger before his eyes, Johnny stared, at first not believing what his eyes were showing him.

The battlefield burned.

Scanrans and Tortallians alike cringed away from the towering sheet of flames that transformed the valley into an inferno.

_What was Harrison thinking?_ Johnny thought, only to have his question instantly negated as Will said, "So. The mages have finally made up their minds to act."

_Some action,_ Johnny thought, gazing out at the firestorm that had taken hold. The flames climbed higher and higher, seeming to reach out to lick the heavens with their fiery tongues. _But why have they put an additional barrier between themselves and Tortall? _The answer came to him as he felt the first drops of rain on his cheek.

"Gods!" Johnny cursed. "They are burning away the bodies that were blocking the pass!"

"Of course." Will murmured, but his next words were swallowed by the downpour that obscured their view of the battlefield completely.

The deluge died away with an incremental slowness that was excruciating, but rather than use the time to whittle his fingernails down to nothing, Johnny used the interval to study the Gate. The coils of it drifted and swung in a seemingly random manner that defied his comprehension.

Yet the longer he looked, the more it seemed as if there might be a pattern to all that chaos. He felt that he just might be able to figure it out, if only he had time enough…

But time was a precious commodity, for with every passing moment Johnny Bones could feel his opportunity to deconstruct the modified Gate of Idramm slipping away. Will was growing more agitated by the second, as was clearly demonstrated by his clenched fists and the throbbing vein in his forehead.

Though he had never been much of a praying man, at that moment, Johnny Bones found himself muttering a string of prayers under his breath, calling out for aid from whatever Gods may be listening.

Finally, the rain tapered off into a soft drizzle, which gave a few furtive spits then stopped altogether.

Below them, pandemonium reigned.

The King's Own had moved once again to the forefront. They were locked in furious combat with the creatures that swarmed like ants through the soggy ashes of their fallen fellows. The Tortallians fought valiantly, killing tens of monsters for every man that succumbed to the writhing horde, but time and numbers were against them. Each Tortallian that fell was irreplaceable, while there were thousands waiting to fill the gap left behind by any one Scanran.

Johnny Bones tore his gaze away from the madhouse below, his eyes returning with magnetic force to Will's face. He knew that the same thoughts, the same calculations were running through the King's mind as were racing through his own, and sought to stave off the inevitable conclusion.

But before the words could leave his lips, an awful cry rent the air, multiplying into an echoing chorus which reverberated above the sounds of battle. Three dark shapes plummeted from the swirling mass of the clouds, vast wings of black membrane pumping and gliding in a horrible mockery of flight.

The demons had arrived.

One of them broke away, soaring east to attack the men on the mountainsides who still peppered the host below with their deadly shafts. Instantly the archers turned their bows to the sky, even as the mages responded with their Gifts. But the beast seemed to shrug off both arrows and magic, continuing to harry the men without pause.

The other two honed in on the tight knot of Ownsmen surrounding a bright-armored man riding a horse as black as night.

No, not man. That was Karma, Karma disguised as the King. Johnny felt a twinge of grief shiver through his bones as he realized that Gregory, the banner-carrier, was nowhere to be seen, but sadness was washed away by panic as he raised his eyes to Will's face once again.

"Tortall needs you alive, Will," Johnny Bones said, fortifying his voice with all of the authority and wisdom he could muster, "This is not the time for selfish heroics."

Emotion broke through the bleak mask on Will's face, darkening his features. Johnny Bones hoped it was anger, but when Will spoke, his words revealed his despair.

"They don't need me," Will said, throwing his arm out to encompass the battle unfolding below them. "I have done _nothing _to help them, yet still they fight. They will fight until the last of them dies unless I end this."

"Don't be foolish, lad," Johnny Bones snapped. "They will need ye very much once this mess is over with. Ye may be young, but ye've got a way of inspiring people, of bringing out their better qualities and challenging 'em to push their limits. Tortall will need you in the rebuilding, for the alliances ye've build are great and beautiful, but fragile too. It will be too easy fer us to forget—we will need a strong leader to remind us that we are one ev'n when there is no imminent threat of destruction loomin over us."

Will was staring at the place where Karma and the Own battled demons, "What Tortall will there be left to rebuild?" he asked, in that horrible monotone. "There will be no people left to do the rebuilding."

Johnny Bones saw the decision in Will's eyes and reacted without thinking.

He reached out with his Gift and _pulled._

For a few seconds, Johnny Bones feared he'd been too late. The world shifted around him and colors exploded in his vision, swirling in multicolored eddies that seemed to whisper of secrets, of mysteries better left unexplored. Lights danced before his eyes, bursting into stars which streaked away leaving searing tails in their wake.

Then it all seemed to fall apart, collapsing into itself, even as he felt strong hands on his shoulders holding him up.

Johnny Bones opened his eyes to find himself in the middle of the Gate of Idramm, with Will supporting him as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. He could still See the traces of the Gate spinning lazily through the air, though the magic seemed like an afterimage in comparison to the light show that had swirled before.

"How did you do that?" Will said, and Johnny Bones was impressed at the moderation in his voice, until he raised his eyes and saw that there was no life in Will's face. He might as well have succeeded in activating the Gate, for he was a man who had lost all will to live. "I did not know that the Gate of Idramm could be disabled once it had been drawn. One minute I could feel its power…then you did—something—and it was all gone."

Johnny Bones stared at Will in confusion. Couldn't he see that the Gate was unbroken? That it was still very much capable of being activated?

"I—" Johnny took step back, careful not to break the inner circle of the runes scrawled on the ground. He shook his head, trying to clear his head of the glowing afterimages that persisted in his vision. There was also an annoying buzzing noise in his ears, as if his very brain were vibrating, and he felt off kilter, like his center of gravity was shifting every few seconds. "Honestly, I'm not sure," he said. But as soon as the words left his mouth Johnny Bones realized that he knew _exactly_ what he had done. Somehow he must have wrested control of the spell away from Will, for he could _feel_ the power of it humming in his bones. And when he raised his eyes to study the spell again, he knew that he was right, for the pattern of the drifting cords of magic was painfully obvious to him now. He could see clearly how it worked, and understood intrinsically why he felt so unbalanced—it was missing an element.

But he had no time to process that realization, no time to wonder just _how_ he had accomplished it, for just then another horrible screech rent the air.

Both men turned their attention back to the battle just in time to witness the demon that had been attacking the archers plummeting from the sky. The death of one of their own seemed to enrage the other two demons; they rose into the sky, shrieking their anger with their hideous voices as they streaked toward the men on the mountainside, sharp claws extended. But the barrage of arrows that greeted their arrival was too thick; bereft of vengeance, the two turned once again toward Karma. They dove at her simultaneously, and though she managed to dodge the first demon's assault, the second one knocked her from the saddle.

The entire Tortallian force seemed to hesitate as their assumed King fell from Darkness's back. The Scanrans were quick to take advantage of the Tortallians' distraction, pressing forward with overwhelming force. The line began to crumble as everyone's attention focused on the place where Karma battled the demons on foot.

"No!" Will gasped, and Johnny Bones heard true emotion in the King's voice. Horror dawned upon the Will's face as he stared at the Gate of Idramm which trapped him, cutting him off from his people.

Johnny Bones felt as if there was someone whispering in his ear, because he suddenly knew exactly what he was to do.

He braced himself, keeping one eye on the shifting pattern of the Gate as he reached for his Gift. There it was—the flaw that had let him slip through Will's defenses, the place where the spell was still incomplete.

Johnny Bones grabbed Will roughly, then shoved him through the gap, accompanying the move with that same _twist_ of his Gift. If it had been any other moment, Johnny Bones would have been fascinated by the interplay of forces revealed by Will's removal from the spell, but he was distracted by the scenes unfolding in the arena below him.

Karma had managed to behead one of the demons with Darkness's help, but the death of its mate had driven the other one insane. It let out a screech that sounded like the trumpet of the apocalypse as it dove towards Karma. She braced herself, but the attack was only a feign, the beast swerved aside at the last moment and slashed into Darkness, ripping a gaping wound in the stallion's side as he reared.

Johnny Bones heard Will cry out next to him as Darkness fell, the mournful call reminding him of his own place in this battle.

"Go, Will!" Johnny Bones said. "Go and fight!"

Will started to turn, but then he hesitated. "What about you?" he asked.

Johnny Bones shook his head, "My people will rally to you if you give them the sign—" Johnny recited a short spell, demonstrating the proper hand movements that accompanied it. "Only the King of Thieves is ever taught how to cast that spell, so mind who ye teach it to." Will's eyes widened, but he nodded sharply. Once again he turned to go, and once again he turned back.

"Why?" he whispered.

Johnny Bones didn't need to ask what he was talking about; he knew as well as Will did.

He met Will's gaze firmly and said, "We've got a mutual friend who would be mighty upset if something untoward were to happen to you. Just so happens that I need a bit of leverage against him—he's gotten the better of me once too often for my liking. I figure, I keep you alive and…well, he'll owe me for the rest of his existence."

The lifting of the corners of Will's lips might have been the beginnings of a smile, but that trace was wiped away by the sudden hush that fell over the battlefield.

It took Johnny Bones a few seconds to comprehend what he was seeing, but once the dreadful realization dawned he was propelled into action.

"Go!" Johnny shouted at Will, "Your people need you!"

His words seemed to startle Will out of his paralysis. The King of Tortall whirled, sprinting away in long, loping strides.

Johnny Bones watched until Will had disappeared from his sight, then he turned back to the battlefield, where Lucas was trying to rally the people of Tortall with mixed success. He looked past the place where the battle raged alongside the City of the Gods, his eye moving over the black hordes of monsters that waited their turn to engage his people. He could see quite far from the lofty pavilion, and it was clear that the ranks of the Scanrans still extended quite a ways back into the mountains. That was probably where the mages were lurking—the mages who might even now be cooking up some new horror.

His eyes fixed on those distant peaks, Johnny Bones unconsciously stroked the large, purple stone that he had appropriated from Will.

From the hidden recesses of his memory, he heard Tohmas' lecturing voice: _"Magic is not irrational, though often at times it seems to work in puzzling and inexplicable ways. What you must remember is that most magic works by manipulating perceptions, but it is also filtered _through_ perception. Trouble arises when people forget that perceptions are dependent on a multitude of variables—therefore the connections that magic may make with a particular person or object may seem impossible superficially, but when examined from an alternative perspective become quite rational."_

A sigh escaped from the Rogue's lips as his gaze returned to the battlefield.

It was time to discover if he truly was a King of Tortall.

~ ~:~ ~


	66. Battle: Part Four

Chapter Sixty-five: The Battle: Part Four

He should have been scared.

Above him the sky boiled, dark clouds looking like the distillation of pure evil as they simmered and bubbled, a caldron fueled with manic power and showcased by livid bursts of jagged lighting. All around him, chaos reigned. A dark fog obscured his vision, frothing and roiling with gleeful menace. He caught fleeting glimpses of oddly distorted faces, of bulging eyes that glowed with a sick, green light, of limps grotesquely elongated and bodies humped, bodies twisted, bodies of such perverse proportions that they could only have been imagined by the mind of a mad man.

It was a nightmarish reality. Any rational man would have been terrified and—even embattled as he was—Illieno knew that he _should_ be scared.

But he was not.

It was odd, really. His arms and hands moved automatically to stab, to cut. His body rode Eclipse with effortless ease, the two of them weaving through the blurry monstrosities of the Scanran army as if they were one. Yet he felt curiously detached, as if he were not really present at all, but viewing the events unfolding around him from afar.

He let Eclipse take the initiative, trusting the stallion's instincts to attack along the edges of the Scanran mob, striking then retreating in a zigzag fashion that masked their position and kept them from being surrounded. By nature of their assault, Illieno and Eclipse were largely isolated, though they were seldom far from the others. On his right flank, Keladry of Midelan plunged into the shadowy horde, the piercing-tip of a rag-tag bunch who looked like they would be more comfortable wielding spades and hoes than swords and battle-axes, yet they fought as diligently and cohesively as a band of mercenaries—mowing down monsters with unembroidered but brutal efficiency.

Eclipse shadowed their progress for awhile, allowing him to sink his daggers into a few choice places while the Scanrans' attention was on Keladry and her band. Then Eclipse veered away again, before the brutes could realize that there was someone invisible attacking their backs.

A pack of wolves seemed to materialize out of nowhere, a dozen smooth gray bodies that darted and wove as they chased shadows. One of them leapt into the air to sink its sharp fangs into the throat of a hulking beast with three-too-many eyes and spotty patches of oily fur, while four others surrounded a hissing creature that moved with the sinuous undulations of a snake, but had skin feathered like a bird and spiny protrusions down its spine and on the backs of its seven-fingered hands.

He and Eclipse left them to it, bowling into a knot of screeching terrors that had surrounded one of the mighty grizzly bears that lived in the Tusaine mountains. The bear stood on two legs thick as tree trucks, slashing powerfully at the Scanrans which darted around it, despite the many cuts that littered its body. The Scanrans scattered in confusion as they were suddenly attacked by the unseen force which cut and bruised from seemingly every direction at once. The grizzly dropped to all fours, shaking its great head, then charged into the shadows with a fierce snarl that rivaled that of their enemies.

Illieno felt a giggle bubbling from his lips as he watched fear dawn on the faces of nightmare monsters just before Eclipse rode them down, trampling their malformed features beneath his deadly hooves. Then the giggle was strangled in his throat as a thunderous concussion rent the air, nearly knocking him from Eclipse's back. His leg muscles screamed as he heaved himself upright, panting.

When he had regained his balance, Illieno looked to the source of the disturbance, his eyes falling on the image of Numair Salmalin locked in silent combat with three hoary creatures with hooves like horses and long, spiraling horns which reached as high as the lanky wizard's shoulder as he sat upon his steed. All four were motionless, though the air around them was alive with multi-colored sparks which danced and spun in a dizzying display.

Directing Eclipse with his knees, Illieno steered his horse into a tangential trajectory to where the four mages battled. His hair stood on end and his ears rang with a painful pressure as they rode into the cloud of magic that surrounded them, but Eclipse did not hesitate, so Illieno gritted his teeth against the discomfort and leaned low over the stallion's back. His daggers sliced along the backs of the horned creatures' knees as Eclipse galloped past.

Each staggered as Illieno's blade ripped through their tendons, giving Numair the brief opening he needed to bash through the Scanran mages' defenses.

In his peripheral vision, Illieno saw the creatures falling, even as the wizard lifted his hand and shouted a single word which crackled with power.

His ears popped as Numair's spell exploded into the horde on his left flank, turning the mass of monsters into a giant, smoking crater. Chunks of flesh and splintered limbs rained down around him, splattering him with vile viscera that made him gag with its singed meat smell.

Numair trotted his horse further into line of freak show horrors, tossing spells that burst in deadly eddies with casual flicks of his fingertips. Prudently, Eclipse took off in the opposite direction, carrying Illieno with him. Neither of them wanted to accidentally get caught by one of those spells—after all, Numair couldn't see them to avoid them.

Unfortunately, away from Numair meant into the madhouse in the middle of the valley. For the first time, Eclipse charged into the bulk of the shadowy host, instead of merely glancing off the edges. Instantly they were surrounded, their line of retreat barred by creatures that skittered, creatures that slithered, creatures that slimed and swarmed over each other, competing to be the first to break free of the valley and those who held it against them.

Illieno struck out indiscriminately at whatever parts of whatever _thing_ he could reach. Beneath him, Eclipse was doing his best to keep them moving, to keep them from being overwhelmed. But he could not buck and thrash as a warhorse should, for the stallion knew that when Illieno rode without a saddle such maneuvers would inevitably result in his master being dumped unto the ground. So Eclipse swerved and dodged, kicking when he could, but mostly just trusting Illieno to keep the monsters at bay.

The surging sea of Scanrans parted, to reveal Ana and Firedance slightly ahead and to their left. Ana glowed with a violet light as she fought, her blades throwing purple reflections as they whirled through the air around her, biting into discolored flesh and lopping off heads that snarled even in death. Firedance fought just as fiercely, her thrashing hooves bashing down brutes with lethal finesse.

Then another rider materialized out of the shadows in front of them, and Illieno saw the light of Ana's Gift dim briefly as she looked upon the pair, only to flare into a brighter radiance as anger overtook her features.

Illieno fumbled in his attack as his gaze found the face of the man mounted on that heinous mockery of horseflesh, and he felt that strange mixture of anger and grief rip through his system all over again.

He knew that face, knew it as intimately as he knew his own. How many times had he seen that face laughing with reckless abandon, those lips turned up with wicked humor, those eyes twinkling with secret delight or staring seriously into his own? How often had he searched those perfect features, looking for a sign that perhaps he was not alone, only to find disappointment once again?

But then Marc's beautiful face melted away to reveal another, and for the first time Illieno felt fear flooding his system.

The rider that faced Ana was not Marc at all, but someone much, much worse.

Li Dubyn.

The Imp threw back his head and laughed, a laugh so dreadful that Illieno screamed with wordless terror as the sound penetrated his ears. He wanted to cringe, to drop his knives and cover his ears to shut out that horrible laugh, but he forced himself to keep fighting, to keep pressing forward toward the place where Ana and Firedance fought the Imp with a ferocious intensity that was inspiring to watch.

But as the distance between them closed with a languor that was excruciating, Illieno realized that Ana's attack was futile. The Imp parried each of Ana's thrusts with an ease that sent spurts of panic coursing through his veins. It was obvious that Li Dubyn was not even bothering to engage her; instead he was drawing out the fight, making her suffer as he played with her.

And still that laughter went on, until Illieno was certain his ears must bleed from having to endure such atrocious dissonance.

Then suddenly Li Dubyn raised his free hand and blasted Ana with a shaft of dark magic so black it seemed to suck the color out of the world.

Illieno yelled with mindless fury and grief as Ana and Firedance froze, their bodies trapped by the evil magic that poured into them as the Imp laughed with maniacal glee. Tears streamed down his face as Illieno and Eclipse redoubled their attack, cutting down nightmare creatures with indiscriminate fury as they battled to reach their friends.

And then Ana screamed.

Her scream ripped through Li Dubyn's awful laughter like a sword cutting through silk, growing and multiplying until it seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once.

Violet fire burst from Ana's body, blinding Illieno with its terrible brilliance. Then he was flying through the air, as the magic exploded outward and swept him away from Eclipse. He landed on his back with enough force to drive all the air from his lungs, and spots swam in his vision as he fought to stay conscious.

Illieno lay where he had fallen, laboring to fill his lungs with air, so he had a perfect view as the sky opened up and lightning fell like rain, striking with such ferocious velocity that there was no time for thunder, only those jagged spears of violet-tinged light which streaked toward the earth with fatal force.

And still Ana's scream went on, filling up the world with its endless cry of grief and loss.

Illieno struggled to his feet, wheezing as he watched the lightning striking all around him. Between the searing rays he glimpsed Ana, poised upon Firedance's back with her two swords pointed toward the heavens and her mouth frozen in that unearthly scream.

Then the wind rose as the lightning began to taper off, bringing with it the strangest sight Illieno had ever seen. For a moment, he thought that the rain was falling _in the wrong direction_, until he reached out a hand to touch the silvery drops and realized that what he was seeing was merely the wind picking up and carrying thousands and thousands of flower petals into the upper atmosphere.

It was beautiful to behold, but Illieno's admiration was forestalled by the memory which surfaced in his mind, bringing with it an urgent reminder.

_"When the lightning strikes and the rain falls upward," _Karma's voice whispered, _"do not hesitate but seek help in the stone building beside the swollen river."_

Adrenaline lent speed to his legs as Illieno sprinted toward Ana, uncaring that the lightning still fell around him in random bursts. Even as he ran the wind seemed to stutter, then died altogether, and the lightning gave a few more feeble surges before retreating back into the heavens. With the departure of the lightning, so, too, went the clouds, breaking up to allow the warm face of the sun to shine once more upon the land.

So it was with sunlight on his face and tears on his cheeks that Illieno witnessed Ana's collapse, her body sagging limply as she tumbled from Firedance's back.

~:~

Will ran.

He ran until his joints moaned and his muscles screamed for mercy.

And still he ran, dodging piles of ancient debris and darting along forsaken streets of crumbling cobblestone. He yelled as he ran, though his lungs wailed and his heart seemed ready to burst in rebellion.

"Court of the Rogue, to me, to me!" Will cried, again and again, though he had no breath left to cry with.

And they came, emerging from their concealment to run with him, their faces grim and their weapons bloody from the fights they had already seen on this day.

In the sky above him, the King of Thieves' construct kept pace, adding its own raucous voice to Will's call to rally. In any other time, in any other place, Will would have been amused that the King of all things subversive used a griffin as its mascot. After all, it was widely known that one could only speak truth in a griffin's presence, making it a strange and ironic symbol for the Court of the Rogue. But in the present moment Will could summon only appreciation for the existence of such a symbol, for, however odd it might have been, it _worked._ He was so clearly not the King of Thieves that these men knew, yet they followed him without question or hesitation as he sprinted through the City.

He wondered if any of them recognized him as the King of Tortall, but there was no way to know and no time to find out in. There were far more pressing matters that needed to be addressed, namely, attempting to keep the Scanrans out of Tortall.

Something with far too many legs and two heads erupted from a doorway just ahead of him, charging him with both of its mouths bared in a savage sneer. Will blasted it out of his way without even breaking stride, only to stumble as he heard a few wheezy cheers erupt from behind him.

A pair of men with scarred, pitted faces and naked steel clenched in their fists sprinted up on either side of him. One winked as Will turned to look at him, while the other merely nodded and grinned. Their faces were familiar, and it struck Will suddenly that these two were Johnny Bone's personal body guards. He wondered what their master had told them about his plans for the battle, but decided it didn't matter as long as they didn't turn on him.

The two kept pace easily, the three of them swerving in sync to enter the final passageway between the City and the pass. There were more monsters now, but Will's spells made short work of them, annihilating every _thing_ that tried to come between him and his people.

Then they were tearing through the last fractured archway, only to collide with a solid wall of Scanran fiends.

Will thrust out his hands, yelling a spell as he charged into the writhing horde. He felt the magic leave his fingertips, then a great swath of night-time horrors was mowed down as his spell struck. He saw the people of the Rogue pouring from the City on either side of him, cutting into the Scanran forces as they screamed war cries.

The fight moved past him while Will surveyed the battlefield. In the time it had taken him to get through the City, Lucas had been pushed almost two-thirds of the way back along the road. He could see the King's Own interspersed with pockets of knights and men-at-arms, but there was a sea of monsters between them and still more filling the ravine beyond the City of the Gods.

An occasional arrow still flew from the mountains to his right, but it was clear that their cache had run dry. He knew that even now archers with empty quivers were probably making their way down the mountainside to aid the fight, but he feared that the extra help might come too late; already, the ground that the reinforcements from the City had won was being eaten away, soon they would be fighting with their backs against the crumbling walls of the ruins.

Will set his jaw, making a decision that he knew would have ramifications for years to come. But right now what mattered more was keeping the Scanrans from despoiling their land, not what might happen to that land after he summoned it to help in this fight.

With firm resolution, Will reached into his pocket, only to find it empty.

His weary knees threatened to buckle beneath him as he realized that the Dominion Jewel was not there.

_That sneaky little thief, _Will began to think, then all thought was driven away as a great concussion ruptured the atmosphere, making him stumble with its colossal force.

Will looked up just in time to see the magic spiraling away into the distance, before the world shifted again and he was swept off his feet.

When the tremors finally died away and the dust began to settle, Will staggered upright, his jaw sagging as he witnessed the extent of the destruction.

The mountains beyond the City of the Gods were gone, leaving behind a massive pile of rubble that extended into the ravine before the City. No longer was there a way between Scanra and Tortall, for the Gate of Idramm had completely erased any means of passage, leaving behind a field of splintered rock and jagged debris that would confound even the sure-footed goats of the mountains to traverse.

But Will had no time to process what that fact meant for his people and his country, for it was in that moment that the ember stone around his neck burned with a searing heat and he heard a voice in his ears which called out to him with a desperate plea that tore at his heart and wrenched him away from where he stood and took him to another place.

_Will, _Ana cried, _help me. _

~:~

Darkness.

Darkness and shadow; holding her, swallowing her.

There was nothing here but darkness and shadow, no light to save her, no wind to guide her.

Images swam and flickered in the darkness, images that teased her with meaning that she could not grasp.

She saw a City, rotting beside a tranquil sea.

She saw shadows, creeping up behind a dark haired boy with violet eyes as he ran through a garden overflowing with the flowers of spring.

She saw her Mother, retreating into the darkness as buildings crumbled and fell all around Her.

Then out of the darkness a light began to shine, a warm, comforting light that beckoned her to go, to leave behind all darkness and live forever in sunshine.

Ana was drawn toward that warmth, toward the fulfillment of the promise that it pledged.

_"No."_ chorused several voices from elsewhere in the darkness. _"That way is not for you."_

Ana turned, though she had no body to turn with and spoke, though she had no voice to speak with. Not here, not in the darkness.

_"I want to go," _she said.

_"Not yet," _said one of the speakers, a woman of such beauty that it would have stolen her breath, had she any breath to steal.

_"You may go follow that light some day," _said another, whose storm-gray eyes revealed a sympathy and understanding beyond words. _"But now your path belongs another way."_

_"The light is for us," _added the man who stood next to her, his tall, lanky form poised with easy assurance. _"We have earned our passage."_

_"Yes," _agreed the dignified man with the salt-and-pepper goatee. The man whose face reminded her of another, another who might even now be basking in that tender light. _"We have waited many years to go on. It is our time, but it is not yours."_

_"I want to go!" _Ana cried, with stubborn determination. _"Will has gone, so why can't I?"_

The woman with cropped, light brown hair and soft brown eyes shook her head, even as the big man said, _"He has not yet traveled that road, and neither shall you, little one."_

_"We have earned our peace," _the short woman with the fierce black eyes added, _"you shall not steal it from us."_

_"Have I not earned it?" _Ana countered, _"Can we not all go together?"_

_"Patience," _said the one with Will's face, _"Your time will come all too soon."_

Then they were gone, gone with that tantalizing light, and she was alone with the darkness once more.

~ ~:~ ~


	67. Crossroads

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Just in case you are curious, this chapter was the turning point for me, as the author of this story. I wrote it—just as you are reading it—years ago, in a flurry of inspiration. It was this chapter that made me realize I'd gone about it all wrong from the beginning. I gave up on the story after I wrote it originally…but, after I'd been reminded of my forgotten little fic by a few faithful reviewers, it was also the chapter that inspired me to give this story another shot. Now you get to see it for the first time; my gift to you.

Chapter Sixty-six: Crossroads

Ana awoke to a sound she had not heard in a very long time. It took her quite awhile to identify the noises; for the room was both very dark and very unfamiliar. And the world in which she had been living had no such machines. The slow steady beep of heart monitors and the soft buzz of the other medical equipment were as foreign to her ears now as the crackle of magic used to be.

"But now I am home," she murmured in Thaylian_._ The words still tasted funny in her mouth. As funny as they had when she had first used them again with General what's-his-face.

_No, not home,_ she thought, in Tortallian. _I have no home. _

There was a soft stirring noise from beside her and then a loud cry which might have been either of fear or joy. Ana caught a glimpse of an achingly familiar round face, and then she was engulfed by yards of crumpled green cotton.

"You are awake!" Ana heard the muffled cry, then she was suddenly freed from the excited embrace of the round-faced woman. The woman held her at arm's length for a moment, studying her. "I still cannot believe it is truly you," she pronounced solemnly, shaking her head. "We thought you had died. General Brooks sent a full squadron into the desert to look for you, but there was no trace! And your brother was here! Can you believe that? He came, with a big group of his men, but even he—May God bless him—found no sign of what had happened to you. It seemed as if you had simply vanished; we were so worried…"

Ana stared at the round face, wondering who this woman was. It was obvious that this person cared very much about her, yet Ana distinctly remembered the feeling that no one at all in the world cared for her. _Except perhaps my family... _That round face was tickling her memory horribly.

The round-faced woman was still gushing over her. "…and just look at you! You're as beautiful or more as your sister, with no trace of that sickly little thing that I used to care for. And just think; now that you've recovered you can go home again to the City…"

The tumblers in Ana's mind clicked into place. "Mari?" she murmured, staring disbelieving into the face in front of her. Little more than a year had passed, yet it seemed as if her old nursemaid had aged thirty years.

"Who else did you think it was, silly?" Mari asked, patting her cheek fondly. "Did you think I had forgotten you?"

Ana did not have the heart to tell her yes.

"What happened?" she said instead, as much to distract Mari as to sate her curiosity. "How did I happen to come here?" The last thing she remembered was seeing the massive horde in front of her and holding up her swords to stop them…no, it was the look on Will's face as he tumbled from Darkness's back …_no,_ she thought, _it was the Six telling me that their duty was done and that they would rest, finally, among the dead._

Mari was shaking her head. "You were lucky, you know," she said. "If we'd acted any less quickly you might have died. A crazy desert man came riding up to the gates, shouting in their barbarian tongue and holding your poor limp body aloft like some prize game. General Brooks had him captured and thrown into the dungeon, and we rushed you up here as quick as possible. You were really beaten up; cuts and bruises all over. If he hadn't wanted to show you off to us we might never have recovered you again."

Ana grabbed Mari's arm, her fingers digging into the soft, cotton covered flesh. "You threw him into the dungeon?" she cried.

Mari smiled, misreading the distress on Ana's face. "Don't worry, love, he can't harm you now."

Ana released her grip on Mari's arm, her mind racing. The story seemed to unfold behind her eyes. _I must have fainted and Illieno had no choice but to seek help here. They didn't know he was my friend because I made them forget my return last time. _Ana silently cursed herself and her stupidity. If she had done things differently then perhaps her friend would not be sitting in the dungeons now.

"Mari," Ana said slowly, her mind already piecing a plan together, "how long have I slept?" She had a bad feeling about the answer.

"It's been a full week now, but the doctors say that you were unconscious before the desert man brought you here."

_My Gift,_ Ana thought, _I overtaxed my Gift._ It had never taken her a full week to recover her Gift before, but then, she had never used it to...to...

A vivid memory surfaced in her mind, the feeling of awful power searing through her body as lightning rained down around her in jagged forks. She remembered the look on Li Dubyn's face, the disbelief that had seeped over his handsome features just before the magic struck him down.

Slowly, almost tentatively, she reached inside her to the place where her magic resided. But instead of feeling the warmth fill her instantly, as it normally did, there seemed to be a barrier between herself and her Gift. Reaching for her Gift was like immersing her hand in thick syrup, but finally, despite the barrier, she felt the warmth of her magic at her fingertips.

Her Gift was greatly diminished from its usual power--and no wonder--but there was still enough there to accomplish what she intended to accomplish.

"Mari," Ana said, turning toward her old friend. Mari smiled, her old eyes wrinkled with the joy of her charges' return. Slowly, Ana reached out and put her hand on the old woman's forehead. "Sleep," she murmured, in Tortallian, accompanying the word with a small stream of her Gift.

Mari's eyes drifted gently shut, her head drooped, and her breathing steadied.

Quietly, Ana crept out of her sick bed. A cold draft of wind sent shivers through her body and she realized for the first time that she was quite naked. _They must have already disposed of the tunic and breeches I wore here_, she thought despairingly, for her old clothes were nowhere to be seen.

Her eyes caught sight of a Thaylian style dress laying daintily on one of the other chairs in the room, but Ana realized, with chagrin, that she had no idea how to put it on. She was comfortable in clothing herself in any of the Tortallian fashions, from massive skirts to comfortable breeches, but she had no idea how to dress herself in her own homeland's fashion.

So she simply went without. _Afterall, _Ana thought wryly, _I really have no need for clothes in what I want to accomplish._

Opening the door tentatively, Ana peered down the lengthy corridor. There was no one in either direction, for which Ana was very glad. The less people she saw the better. She stood outside the doorway a moment, contemplating in which direction the dungeons might be, and then decided on left. There seemed to be a friendly wind pushing her that way, and since Ana had never doubted her friendly wind before, she followed it without thought.

Her wind led her through the fort in a twisty way that seemed to bypass all the most heavily trafficked areas. Still, every once in a while Ana would come upon a guard or two standing attentively at their posts. But one or two guards were no match for her sleep spells and she soon had them slumped against the walls, snoring gently as she made her way past them.

The big clock in the entrance hall was striking two o'clock in the morning when she finally reached the entrance to the dungeons. There was only one guard here; for it was the general belief that Thaylian prisons were so well built that escapes were all but impossible.

Quiet as death, Ana crept up behind the dozing guard. "Sleep," she whispered softly in his ear.

The guard slumped forward, his breathing already heavy.

Ana glanced at the keys on the wall, but dismissed them almost immediately. No one could suspect that she had been the one to free the desert prisoner. It had to seem as if he had escaped on his own.

She slipped into the dark cells, following her guiding wind, and trying to ignore the distant groans and mutterings of the other inmates. When she came to the last cell on the block her wind disappeared.

Ana stopped, putting her hand on the door she could not see. There was a soft click as the lock clicked open, and she stepped quietly into the cell, her Gift stifling any noises the door might have made. She shut the door behind her, praying to the Mother Goddess that there were no windows for anyone to see, and let a small violet flame leap into her hand.

Illieno had been sleeping, but at the sight of the light he jerked awake, flinging his hands over his eyes at the unaccustomed brightness.

"Lioness...?" he groaned softly.

"No stupid," Ana said, taking in his surroundings. There was a small pile of hay for a bed and a bucket for a privy. Other than that the tiny room was bare. There were no windows and the walls looked thick. "Remember me? My name is Ana."

Illieno sat up, awareness returning to his eyes. He looked up at her in shock for a moment, then turned his head resolutely away.

"You're stark naked." He announced.

Ana blushed; she had completely forgotten her nakedness. "I..." she started, but found no other words forthcoming. There was a moment of awkward silence.

Illieno climbed slowly to his feet, careful not to look at her, and pulled his tunic over his head. "It's rather dirty," he said as he handed it to her, "but I think we'd both be more comfortable if you wore it."

Ana smiled, slipping the tunic over her head. Illieno was much bigger than her, and the shirt reached almost to her knees.

When she was covered, Illieno finally turned toward her. First, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a friendly squeeze, wordlessly expressing how grateful he was that she was still alive.

Then he punched her arm.

"What _took_ you so long?" he admonished her, but a smile still crept onto his face. "Do you know how horrible Thaylian food is? I've been sitting here wondering how you are for_ever_!"

Ana smiled at her friend, happy that he too looked alive and well, the effects of a week of Thaylian food notwithstanding. "Actually I _do_ know how bad Thaylian food is," she said cheekily. "I've eaten it for most of my life, you're lucky--you've only had to dine on it for a week."

Illieno made to hit her again, but Ana ducked out of the way. She shook her finger at him. "Do you want to get out of here or not?" she asked, "you shouldn't be abusing your rescuing hero."

Illieno crossed his arms. "All right, you win. Get me out of here, hero."

Ana took hold of one of Illieno's hands. "Just follow my lead. I'm going to put out the light."

Illieno frowned, but didn't say anything. Ana crept out silently, with Illieno just as silent behind her. They made their way through the dungeon, with Ana following her friendly wind once more. There was a little spot of trouble when Illieno accidentally trod on the unconscious guard's feet, but the man simply snorted and snuggled up against the wall once more.

They weren't following the same route she had taken before; but Ana had a feeling that they were heading in the general direction of the stables. This proved true when they stepped through a small plain doorway, into a room smelling of hay, horse dung, and old leather. The room turned out to be a storage room for tack, but another short hallway brought them to the main stables.

The stable boys all appeared to be sleeping in their lofts, for there was no one in sight. None of the horses seemed to mind the intruders; many were asleep, but occasionally as she passed Ana caught the glimpse of a dark eye watching her.

Firedance and Eclipse were stabled right next to each other. Neither made a sound as their masters entered their stalls, they both knew the importance of silence. Firedance greeted Ana with a fond headbutt and a nip at her shoulder. Ana found all her tack and saddlebags on a rack in the back of the stall, and quickly pulled on an extra pair of breeches and tunic, as well as her spare boots, before quietly saddling her horse.

Illieno and Eclipse were already walking slowly out the back gate when Ana and Firedance came out of her stall. Ana quietly closed the door behind them and followed her friend outside. The Goddess was with them; no one hailed them as they slipped quietly out of the fort and into the desert.

~:~

Once they were out of earshot of the fort, they mounted their horses and trotted carefully through the sleeping town of Ithsma. The horses hooves made no sound as they struck on the hard-packed dirt, but there was no one to hear them anyway, the streets were as devoid of life as catacombs. They rode until the reached the river and the bridge that spanned it. No one stirred from the guardhouses as they approached, the night still and quiet, save for the roar of the spring-swelled Drell. Unimpeded, they cantered over the bridge and into the Tortallian desert. Then they rode west, finally stopping when the towers disappeared behind the first hill.

"Illieno." He heard Ana call. She had already dismounted and was gently rubbing Firedance's nose. The fierce mare sighed with enjoyment, but Ana had a sad smile on her face.

"What is it?" Illieno asked, as he dismounted beside her. "Why are we stopping? The moon is up and we still have a couple hours until it sets."

But then he caught her sad smile and the words died away on his lips.

Ana looked up at him, with those astonishing purple eyes, and slowly shook her head.

She didn't need to say it; he knew as well as she did.

"You aren't coming." He said softly.

"No," she whispered.

A million different arguments sprung instantly into his head.

Arguments for his country. She was their Hero, their Champion, their Lioness returned to them. She couldn't stay because she was needed so much by Tortall.

Arguments for himself. She was his companion, his friend, his fellow imp-slayer. She couldn't stay because she was needed so much by him.

But most importantly, arguments for his best friend. She was Will's anger, his fiend, and his one true love and joy. She couldn't stay because she was needed so much by his king.

"You can't stay here," he said, "Tortall needs you."

Ana looked at him, and shook her head.

"_I_ need you," he begged.

Ana looked at the ground, shaking her head.

"Will needs you," he cried, desperately.

Ana stared at the ground. For a moment he thought he'd gotten through to her...but then she turned her gaze upon him once more.

There was no longer any sadness; only hard determination.

"Illieno," she said quietly, "this is my home. I have never truly belonged in Tortall because I was not born and raised there. You took me in as charity because I was dying from a Gift I didn't know I possessed. It was a debt I owed you and now it has been repaid. I saved your country just as you saved my life.

"There was a reason I came to be here, back to the place where I started. This is my world and these are my people. And now that I am back I feel the call of my homeland. I long to once again swim in the Glass Sea and walk the busy streets of the City. I want to see my family. My mother. My _sister, _my_ brother. ._ I want to see if I have any nieces and nephews of my own and hold them in my arms."

She shook her head, the wind toying with her fiery locks. "Ever since my Gift has awoken in me I've had a guiding wind helping to show me my path. Now I feel the wind blowing in the direction of my homeland. That is the way for me now."

Illieno looked upon Ana, the girl who had caused so much change in the world he knew. He saw her as he had first seen her, standing apprehensive in a crowd of supplicants. He saw her arguing with his king and standing at the edge of the world, holding out her arms to stop the Scanran horde. He saw the loyalty in Karma's eyes as she knelt before her Champion and the grief on Will's face as he held her broken necklace in his fist.

And he saw that they would all miss her very much, for she was not coming back.

"You'll have to ride back fast to the fort, else you'll be missed," he said, resignedly.

"No," Ana said, "you'll take Firedance with you."

Illieno's mouth dropped, startled. "I can't take her! She's your horse."

Ana shook her head. "She is Tortall, and I am leaving Tortall behind. I'll take the saddlebags, but leave my weapons and armor."

"No." Illieno said suddenly. "I'll take the horse, but the swords are yours. You know as well as I do that no one can use them as you do."

There was a tense pause. Then Ana nodded. "Fine. I'll take Thunder, but not Naethus. Naethus was a gift from W...from the King, and I shouldn't like to take anything that was his."

Illieno thought to protest, but the sudden pain in Ana's eyes stayed his lips. _She will miss him as much as he misses her,_ he thought sadly.

"Do you want a ride back to the fort?" Illieno asked her, happy for any excuse to delay their parting. Perhaps if he had more time he could convince her to come with him...

Ana seemed to read his thoughts.

"You can't change my mind 'lieno," she said quietly. And then, "I'll walk."

She was already shouldering the saddlebags and Thunder. Firedance was nuzzling her fiercely, seeming to sense something wrong, but Ana pushed her away. "Go with 'lieno, girl," she said brokenly, handing the reigns to him.

Illieno mounted on his own horse, suddenly at a loss for words. They stayed like that for a moment, each wanting to say a million things at once and not knowing how. Finally it was Illieno who broke the silence.

"We'll miss you," he whispered.

Ana nodded.

Illieno turned Eclipse away, tugging a reluctant Firedance behind him. Suddenly he heard a call from behind him.

"Illieno!"

Hope springing up inside him, he turned quickly. "Yes?"

Ana ran quietly up next to him. "When you were in the dungeon...why didn't you just turn invisible and escape when the guards opened the door for your meals?"

Illieno looked down at her. "I didn't want to leave you behind," he said quietly.

Ana put a hand on his leg. "Thank you," she said softly. She turned away.

Illieno watched her disappear over the hill, hoping against hope that she would change her mind. But even when the sky started turning grey, and then blue, he did not see the shape of her running back towards both him and Tortall.

~ ~:~ ~


	68. The City by the Sea

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Because I just couldn't leave ya'll hanging like that, not when there was this juicy chapter itching for publication :)

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Sixty-seven: The City by the Sea and The Reluctant Messenger

Ana stood on the forecastle of the ship, her back turned to the setting sun. The brisk, salty wind was whipping her hair into tangles, but she didn't notice or care. In the distance, the lights of the City were already coming on, a multitude of tiny stars on the horizon that left dancing reflections in the water.

Around her, sailors anxious for shore-leave hustled about their duties. In a few short hours they would be free from their floating prison, free to visit family or friends, to return home, or waste their salary on booze and brothels. A particularly joyous sailor whistled a jaunty tune as he scrubbed the deck, a song about a man who trades his wife for pickled herring and beer.

"Civilization's a lovely sight to see, ain't it?" The first mate joined her at the railing, his tanned face stretched into a wide grin. "Is this your first sight o' the great Imperial City, Lucy?"

Ana smiled to herself. No one on _The Merry Mariner_ knew her true identity; on the ship she was known as Lucy Trebond, daughter of an explorer. To the crew, she had been a curiosity from the first, with her strange manner of dress, her sad eyes and fiery hair. Not the least extraordinary was that she had somehow talked Captain Murdock into giving her passage. Captain Murdock _never_ accepted passengers, especially female passengers. His ship was for cargo, profit, and trade, not for hauling around helpless fillies.

But, as the sailors quickly learned, Lucy Trebond was no filly, nor was she helpless. As the Captain explained that she would be taking passage with them, one man made a bawdy comment about her sharing his bunk _and_ his pants. The sailor, a big, beefy man with tattoos covering half his body, suddenly found himself flat on his back, face to face with three feet of razor-sharp sword. Ana put one of her small feet on the man's massive chest. "You should be more respectful to a lady," she had said quietly, "Or I'll make you one."

There was an extremely pregnant pause as Ana and the sailor glared at each other. Then Ana whipped the sword around and plunged it between his spread legs—somebody in the crowd yelled—and the unfortunate sailor fainted. The first thing he saw when he came to was a pair of cold amethyst eyes. The face that matched the eyes was just as cold and beautiful, a fitting owner of the strange sword quivering in the deck.

Then the man laughed and said, "What a lady!" The tension lifted as everyone chuckled. Ana held out a hand and helped the sailor to his feet. The big man grinned as he retrieved Thunder from the deck and handed him back to his mistress. After that brief encounter, Ana's relations with the crew of the _Merry Mariner_ were easy. There was always something to be done on a large vessel and Lucy Trebond was eager to learn and ready to work, trading quips and funny little anecdotes as she tried her hand at the till or chopped potatoes for soup in the galley. Sailors were very much like soldiers and Ana found herself as easy among the mariners as she once had among the King's Own. The time had gone swiftly, the journey around the continent vanishing in the daily flurry of life on a ship.

She had never sailed before, and she learned quickly that the ocean was not only beautiful but also treacherous. The first day of her journey she had railed at herself for choosing to sail instead of taking the long way, by railroad south and east across the continent, to where the City lay on the shores of the Glass Sea. She had barricaded herself in her tiny cabin, lying miserable on her cot for a night and a day as her stomach rebelled against the constant motion of the ocean.

But then the man she had nearly made a eunuch had come to her rescue, ousting a reluctant Ana from her hidey hole and showing her how to find the steady line of the horizon as an anchor against the roiling motion of ship and sea. There after she was untroubled by motion sickness. She quickly gained her sea legs, mingling with the sailors as she climbed to the top of the crow's nest and gazed out across the endless blue of the ocean, or helped trim the sails to catch the easterly wind.

"I've seen the City before," Ana said quietly, not taking her eyes off of the approaching lights. The City had always reminded her of a lumpy, many-legged monster that lay dead and rotting by the lapping shores of the inland sea. From her tower room she had always felt like the people scurrying about below were like the flies and maggots swarming the corpse.

"I bet you'll be glad to get off of the ship, after the journey we've had."

Ana tore her gaze away from the skyscrapers and the impeding sense of doom which they inspired. She looked at the first mate, whose expression was as clear and happy as a summer morn.

"It was an exciting journey," Ana said, thinking of the hurricane they'd encountered the previous week. She had spent five days in the hold with half of the crew, bailing water, fixing leaks, sleeping in shifts and trying to salvage the precious cargo of spices, silk, and other exotic goods. "I will be sad to see it end."

"Not I," laughed the first mate. "I've got a lass at home that I miss dearly."

Ana smiled sympathetically. "It must be hard, being away from her for so long."

"Aye," he nodded seriously, "but we all must do what we must. I'm a sailor, so I have to sail away from her. Leaving her is hard, but there is no greater pleasure than seeing her again after a long haul at sea. Traveling and seeing the world is wonderful and all, but it's the homecoming that makes it worthwhile," the first mate grinned his happy grin, "Do you have family in the City?"

Ana found herself startled by the question. A gnawing sense of foreboding had been overwhelming her consciousness recently, and she had almost forgotten the reason why she was taking this journey. "I have a brother and a sister and a mother as well," Ana whispered. "I have not seen them in a very long time." Ana suddenly smiled, a mischievous little grin. "They probably think I'm dead."

The first mate laughed. "What a lovely shock it will be when you see them."

Ana looked out over the City again, but its foreboding quality had vanished. The lights of the City mingled with the stars in the sky.

"Indeed," Ana said.

~:~

Illieno stood in front of the King's tent, but could not bring himself to enter it.

It had been a long and exhausting journey here, to where the Tortallian army was camped on the plain before the Grimwold Mountains. The ancient ruins of the once-great City of the Gods glinted in the afternoon sunlight of early summer, the crumbling walls a sober reminder of an earlier age. Those walls still had a presence, standing guard, as they did, over the plains that marked the northern most reaches of Tortall. The camp was a rather subdued as well; men went about their business quietly, but purposefully.

The grim faces of the men he had passed reflected his own mood, and the subtle signs of battle—a pile of armor that needed mending, a distant scream of pain, a bandage around a man's forehead—only served to highlight the bleak tone of his entire journey

_We won the battle, _he thought, _so why does it feel like we lost?_

It was a rhetorical question, of course. They might have won the war against Scanra, but they had lost in the process, for they had regained their Champion only to lose her once again. It was ironic really, that the Lioness had returned as prophesied, channeled by the fierce, proud, and vibrant Ana. In Ana the Lioness had truly been born again, as she had proved by her determination to defend her people, whether they be of Tortall or of Thaylia. _She too, sacrificed herself to save Tortall in its time of greatest need. She rose to every challenge put before her. _

He remembered her fighting on Firedance's back, her swords swinging in perfect tandem as she hacked at creatures that seemed to swirl out of the shadows; he remembered her facing off with the Imp and screaming as lighting struck down the Scanran horde, her swords glinting in the brilliant flashes of the deadly bolts which rained down all around her.

Illieno swallowed thickly, remembering the terror of his journey from the grasslands, as Ana lay limp and unresponsive across Firedance's back, and the joy at seeing her whole and healthy once again. He remembered the look in her violet eyes when she thanked him and turned her back, her shoulders squared as she jogged away from him.

She had not died, but it felt like she had.

He had tried to take his time on the journey here, making sure not to push Eclipse too hard (Firedance refused to let him ride her, and spent most of the journey hanging her head and not eating well). They had stopped early nearly every night, yet the weeks of traveling seemed to have flown by despite his efforts to delay its conclusion.

And now here he stood, clutching Naethus in his sweaty palms, unable to take that final step.

He did not want to be the one to tell Will that she was never coming back. He did not want to look into Will's eyes and see the pain there once again.

_At least I kept my promise to him, _Illieno thought, _It is a small comfort, though, for I have failed him terribly by not bringing her back to him—as I promised myself I would. I wish that it was someone else who carried this message to him, but it is my duty and my honor to tell him, as my King and my friend. _

And then the decision was taken out of his hands, as Will stepped from the tent. His eyes widened as he spotted Illieno standing uncertainly before him. Illieno looked at the ground, unable to face the emotions in that powerful sapphire gaze.

"No…" Will gasped.

Illieno looked up, to find Will staring at Firedance's empty saddle. On his face was the grief that he had dreaded facing, in his eyes the pain of losing someone so beloved.

Illieno knelt in the dirt, bowing his head.

"I have failed you Will," he said, his voice thick and rough. "I could protect her against the Scanrans, but I could not protect her against herself. I had no Gift to heal her, so I had to turn to the Thaylians for help—"

"Then she is dead?" Will whispered, his voice dead.

"No!"Illieno cried, cursing himself for his fumbling explanations, "No, she is fine! She recovered from her wounds and the use of her Gift. The Thaylians saved her…"

Illieno looked up at Will just in time to see the comprehension seep into his eyes like blood oozing from a stab wound. Will looked down at Illieno, at the sword clasped in his hands. Illieno forced himself to look at Will, to face the sorrow that flooded his eyes.

"She still has Thunder," Illieno said quietly, "Though she refused to take Naethus."

"And Firedance," Will murmured absently. He looked dazed for a moment, then he pulled his face together, his features hardening into sharp planes as he put on his mask of indifference. He whirled on his heel, striding back into his tent.

Illieno stared at the ground for a long moment, his eyes blurring with the tears he had for so long kept at bay.

Finally he rose, a resigned sigh escaping from his lips as his face twisted in a grimace. Then he followed Will into his tent, to give what comfort he could.

~:~

The City was just as dirty and disgusting as she remembered it. A year hadn't changed the chaotic clutter, the garbage and homeless lying in the gutters, the hodge-podge mixture of brightly colored booths and shops and shanties cramping the streets, while skyscrapers loomed above. The sea breeze still did nothing to dispel the choking perfume of rotting garbage, fish, smoky exhaust, and unwashed humanity. Even in the dark of night, the City streets were teeming with people and noise. Electric carriages honked like indignant geese at pedestrians as they buzzed by, while hawkers and tradesmen yelled out their wares in long sing-song choruses that overlapped and entwined with the low constant murmuring of machines and humanity.

The slow walk uphill from the docks hadn't changed either, with the streets slowly becoming cleaner, the shops nicer and more expensive, and the buildings better maintained. The people changed too as Ana made her steady, quiet way from the Low Quarter into the Middle Quarter and finally past the high wall and gates into the High Quarter. Skinny urchins dressed in raggedy scraps were replaced with gangs of merchant's children waging war against the immigrant children, then with the stiffly costumed children of the Court. The plain, open faces of the peasants and the exotic features of the non-citizens were replaced by smoothly oiled mustaches, char-lined eyes, and haughty lips.

Ana strode confidently down the main thoroughfare, her eyes fixed on the Palace, the massive complex of buildings, parks, and gardens where she had once lived, but never called home. The road was wide but nearly empty. In just a few hours, the road would be packed with petitioners and pilgrims all traveling to see the center of the Imperial Realm, but for now Ana made a solitary path toward the massive gates of the Palace.

Then she missed a step, because something had changed. The Empire Gate, the magnificent structure of stone and steel, built by the first Emperor, had been closed just three times in the whole history of the Empire. The first time was when the southern heathens had attacked the City, before the time of skyscrapers and electric lights. The second time was during the Great Fire, when a steel foundry had exploded and set half the City alight. The gate was prudently closed to prevent the spread of the fire. The third time the gate had been closed was during the reign of the Red Empress, who laughed as she ordered people killed and served the people who defied her with cinnamon sauce and apples to those who feared her. The Red Empress ordered the Empire Gate closed and the walls of the Palace decorated with the heads of those who tried to get through them. In memoriam of that terrible time, Ana's Mother had ordered the Empire Gate always open, to symbolize the open, sheltering arms of the Empire.

Now the Empire Gate was closed.

Ana took a deep breath. The sight of the closed gate stirred in her all of the ominous thoughts and feelings she'd been having lately.

Something was very, very wrong.

~ ~:~ ~


	69. Family Reunion

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Ha ha! A quick update for those who asked--BACswimma, I'm looking at you--

AND A HUGE APOLOGY IN ADVANCE FOR THE AWFUL CLIFF HANGER AT THE END. Please don't hate me!

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Sixty-eight: Family Reunion

Ana inhaled a deep breath through her nose, steeling herself as she stood in front of the double-doors leading to the throne room of Thaylia. She'd been lucky, today was Wednesday, the day that the Empress held court and sat judgment for any who were brave or desperate enough to seek the intervention of the Empire. Only Citizens were allowed to address their ruler directly, and usually there was a long waiting period before you were called before her, but that was no barrier to Ana.

Her status trumped any other; she was the daughter of the Empress.

The doors creaked open, and the Court crier proclaimed, "Ana De'Mar, to see the Empress."

Ana strode proudly down the middle of the great room, her footsteps muffled by a red-carpeted aisle that ran the length of the throne room until it halted at the steps which rose upward to display the massive throne that topped the dais. On either side of her, Courtiers stared speechless at her progress, the astonishment on their faces making an impish smile rise to her lips.

And then she stumbled, her smile faltering on her face, for the Empress who sat so majestically on the iron throne was not the one she had been expecting, though her face was just as familiar.

It was Marghi.

Fear gripped her suddenly, fear and horrible, horrible expectation. Marghi's face was grave, her features set in the careful neutrality that Ana had come to associate with ruling. She sat rigid, her hands clenched into fists where they clasped the arms of the Throne of the Empire.

Darius stood stiffly at her right side, his features just as grim.

Where was Mother?

_No, _Ana thought, her body frozen. _No! It cannot be!_

She stared up at Marghi, her eyes flooding with tears.

Marghi looked out over the assembled Court.

"Leave us," she ordered, her face expecting instant compliance. The courtiers whispered to each other as they filed out through the double-doors, their faces animated as they glanced at Ana who stood before the steps to the throne, her face shining with tears.

When she heard the doors creak shut again, Ana finally spoke. "Where is mother?" she whispered, but the sound still echoed around the massive room, her words amplified by the absolute silence.

Marghi met her gaze, her eyes strangely hard and cold. There was no sadness there, no grief at losing her mother. _She is so strong, _Ana thought, _she always knew this was what she would have to do, and so she does as she must, though I'm sure she is probably grieving inside._

"We are afraid our Mother died three months ago," Marghi said, her voice ringing through the room. "We are sorry to be the one to tell you this, for her passing is a sorrowful thing." Marghi was silent for a moment, her face betraying no emotion, but then she smiled suddenly, her face changing as she arched an eyebrow and grinned. "But _I_ cannot help but smile today," she cried, "for we had been certain that you were lost to us too, dear sister, and now we find you returned to us!"

Ana smiled, though it did not make it to her eyes. "I have been gone for a year," she said seriously, "and much has happened to me in that time. I am sad to find that much has happened here, as well."

Marghi leaned forward, suddenly eager. "I can't believe you are alive!" she giggled. She leapt from the throne, running carelessly down the steep steps to throw herself into Ana's waiting arms at the bottom. They embraced fiercely for a moment, then Marghi stepped away, her eyes roving over her sister. "Look at you, Ana dearest, you've grown into quite the woman," she smiled, her beautiful face lighting up. "You look so very _foreign. _What with your hair and eyes, and those strange pants and that great sword sticking up over your shoulder."

Ana laughed, grinning at her sister. Then Darius's voice said, "I have never seen you looking _so_ _healthy_," and his voice broke with emotion.

She turned to her brother to find tears shining in his eyes. "I thought I'd lost you forever, little one," he whispered. She threw her arms around him and he squeezed her tightly, his strong arms crushing her in the hug that she'd so longed for. "I see you've proved me wrong once again; I should never have doubted that you would flourish in the land of your father."

Ana pulled out of Darius's embrace, staring at him. "You knew that my father was from Tortall?" She whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Darius's eyes were suddenly filled with weary sadness. "Mother did not want you to know. She might have loved your father, but she was also afraid of him, and afraid of the land where he had come from. I don't know why she decided to send you there when you were sick…but I would guess that she did it out of desperation and a hope that your father's land might give you some aid that we, with all our technology, could not."

Ana shook her head, "I can't believe she's dead," she said quietly.

Darius put a hand on her shoulder, "I cannot believe you are alive," he countered.

"Yes, yes!" Marghi put in, "you must tell us _everything _that has happened!"

Ana grinned at her sister's eagerness. "It's a long story," she warned her, "And I still have trouble believing most of it myself," she said.

Darius took her arm in his, leading her toward a small side door. "Then we should find someplace comfortable and private to talk. I was getting tired of standing next to that hulking throne anyway," he muttered, winking at her as they exited the throne room

~:~

Ana sat, a cup of deni poised at her lips, and said, "And that is how you find me here today, healthy, but very changed in the process." She took a sip of her deni—the sharp bitter taste hit her mouth—and wished that it was tea that was served instead. The strong deni, the staple drink of Thaylia and its main export—the beans from the deni fields filled the Imperial coffers nicely nearly year round—kept her throat wet, but it did not satisfy the way a good cup of tea could. She sighed, a little wistfully.

"You speak Thaylian with an accent now," Darius said, "And you speak fondly of your time in Tortall, though it does not seem like you have had an easy time of it there."

Before Ana could think of an answer, Marghi broke in suddenly, her face skeptical. "You cannot say that you _believe_ her story, Darius," she said, haughtily. "Magic? Gods? It sounds like the story line of one her little adventure novels!" She laughed, the sound harsh and not a little shrill.

Darius's face darkened as he looked at the Empress. He shook his head, his face animated as he said, "Her words have the ring of truth, Marghi. You cannot deny it."

"Can you not?" said a quiet voice, from behind them.

Ana froze, her body paralyzed by the sound of that voice.

That voice, which she had never expected to hear again.

_That voice _cannot_ be here, _her mind screamed, _Not here, not now!_

She turned, time falling into slow motion.

"Have you not heard another version of her tales?" Marc said, his brown eyes burning with a secret fire. His handsome face smiled at her once again, his perfect teeth glinting in the soft lighting of the room. His beautiful curls spilled across his smooth forehead, the brown ringlets falling gently across one twinkling brown eye.

Ana erupted from the sofa, her hands rocketing behind her to her swords. Her left hand ripped Thunder from her sheath, whipping three feet of sharp steel into the air with a deadly finality.

Her right fist closed on empty air.

She fumbled in her movement, startled by the absence of Nathus's weight in her palm. Her balance was off, and she stumbled as she leapt over the couch and landed before Marc. She righted herself instantly, but couldn't shake the irritating feeling of being unbalanced.

It didn't stop her from swinging Thunder up and pointing it sharply at Marc's handsome neck.

"STOP!" Marghi ordered, with all the power of the Empire behind her voice.

Ana froze, Thunder's tip still inches from Marc's smirking visage. He nodded at Ana, his warm eyes on Marghi.

"I told you she would do this," he said, "She has been poisoned by the sorcerer King's lies. You must not blame her rudeness, it is not unwarranted." He stepped back from the point of Ana's sword, bowing to her. "I have been rude myself," he said, "for not greeting you sooner, Ana. Perhaps it was rude of me to listen to your story unannounced, but I had to get over my shock at seeing you."

"_Like hell you did, bastard,"_ She hissed, "You deserve to die for your treachery. As Champion-come-again I claim your head for Tortall, for I am Tortall's justice, the keeper of her honor."

She whipped Thunder around, bending her knees into a fighting stance. The absence of Nathus irked her like a missing limb, and her right hand clenched into a fist.

"No, Ana!" Marghi cried, stepping between them. She held up her empty palms at Ana, her face pleading.

_No matter, _Ana thought, _I don't need to use Thunder to collect the traitor's head. _

She reached inside of her to the place where her Gift lived and her mind came up against a stone wall which barricaded her from the ticklish fire of her magic.

Her eyes widened as she realized that she could not access her Gift.

They widened further when she took in the scene that met her eyes.

"Arrest her for threatening the Empress!" Marc cried, pointing Ana out to the dozen soldiers that stood at his shoulder. Ana swallowed as they leveled their rifles at her, their disciplined faces suddenly fierce. She froze, her eyes moving between the men and where she stood, Thunder poised, directly before her sister.

She looked at her sister, who looked back at her calmly, her dark eyes glittering strangely.

Moving slowly, she sheathed Thunder. Then she straightened, her empty fists clenched at her sides.

Her eyes never left her sister's face.

Marghi was shaking her head sadly, "Take her to her tower," Marghi said, "Do not hurt her, for she is still of royal blood and must not be harmed." She looked at Ana, her eyes sad, but cold. "It is only for a little while," her sister said, apologetically, "Just until we can destroy the usurper King and restore the honor of Tortall by seating Marc on the throne as it should be."

Ana stared at her sister, her right hand creeping unconsciously to her neck. But there was no necklace hanging there, no charm to show her any spells cast over her sister. She frowned, noting the way Marghi's eyes glinted hungrily, their depths lit by a mad light. _He has her under his spell, all right, _she thought, terror and sadness battling for dominance in her mind.

She looked at Marc, who stood casually observing her.

"Welcome home," he sneered, waving the soldiers forward.

Ana held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes as hard and cold as glittering amethysts.

_This is _my _home, you traitorous bastard, _she thought, surrendering Thunder to the waiting hands of the soldiers.

~ ~:~ ~


	70. They Will Come Tonight

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Thank you for all of the reviews! It was so great to see your reactions to that last chapter, cause it is one of my favorites. But enough prattle from me, move it along to...

Chapter Sixty-nine: They Will Come Tonight

She stalked around the room, like a wild animal in a cage. The tower suite, which had once been a sanctuary, was now her prison, cutting her off from the world.

"I can't believe he's here," Ana said to herself, tear-blurred in the mirror. "I can't believe that he, of all people, came to my City, and poisoned _my _sister with lies." She paused, then resumed her ferocious pacing. "I thought I loved him, once. I really did. But in the end he was nothing, except empty charm and lies. Goddess," she whispered absently, as another thought hit her. "That bastard. If it hadn't been for him…"

She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.

"Goddess," She cursed. "I sound like a crazy person. No wonder no one believes me. My tale is already impossible in their eyes and my inability to articulate it doesn't help my cause.

"Dammit!" she yelled, reverting back to the Thaylian cuss word of her childhood. "I don't know what to do. Oh, goddess…_Lioness_…Hey, Lioness!" She shouted to the empty air. "If I'm supposed to be your heir, don't you feel a _little_ bit obligated to come and help me out every once in awhile? I've been through a whole lot since we last talked. Oh, and by the way, I wouldn't mind a _thank you _either, you know, for saving your country and everything. Oh yeah, and I forgot—all of your friends say, 'hi!'"

"You are truly the most sarcastic person I've ever met," said the Lioness. She stood in the corner, arms crossed, with her flaming hair and familiar frown. "And I've known a _lot_ of sarcastic people."

"It's about time," Ana said. "I thought they were going to commit me to a sanitarium before you showed up."

"Perhaps it would have been good for you," the Lioness shot back.

"Touché."

"You forget, Ana, that you are not the only person that has a lot going on. I have been very busy lately. This world is not the only world where there have been battles recently. And my own fight has been complicated by assisting you. It's rather hard to shield someone from harm when they're getting attacked from all sides, you know, and harder still to keep them alive after the battle.

"But you're right." Ana lifted her head at the Lioness's humble tone. "I must apologize, my dear, for road you've had to walk and road you still you have left before you. I'm sorry you, too, had to live in a time of war." The Lioness bent down, touching Ana's shoulder, "I'm sorry I had to destroy your life in order to save Tortall."

"Then I am to die." Ana said slowly.

The Lioness shook her head. "I do not know. If I knew, I would break every rule to tell you, but I do not know. I know only that you must face Marcus."

"He is the one keeping the doorways open, isn't he?" asked Ana.

The Lioness sighed. "Yes. It was he who uncovered the secret way to reopen the doors to the Realms of the Gods…and it was he who let across the imp Li Dubyn to help him in his quest to escape the Divine Realm and destroy Tortall."

Ana shook her head, not at all comforted by having her suspicions confirmed. "Why didn't you tell me this before? I could have killed him while he slept and avoided this whole mess."

Alanna smiled, her mouth quirked ironically. "Hindsight is always the clearest sight of all," she murmured. "But I confess, I could not tell you because I did not know myself. It was only after you killed Li Dubyn that we realized it was not he who held the doors open."

"What will happen when I kill Marc?" Ana asked, her brow furrowed. "Will the doors be closed again, as they were before?"

"Yes," Alanna said, her voice ringing with a prophetic tone. "The Realms of the Gods will once again be closed and all will be restored to as it was before."

"You will have to return, then? No more popping into Tortall to help out in times of trouble?"

The Lioness closed her eyes. Her face changed, and a great sadness seeped over her features. "Tortall will have to endure, without my assistance and without the assistance of the Gods. The world has moved on from the time when we walked freely between this world and that. Magic is fading from the land, soon to be forgotten in the mists of time. Tortall stands at a crossroads; its people will have to decide whether to adapt to the changing ways of this world, or cling forever to the wraiths of the past and be forgotten in turn."

A silence descended, broken only by the distant sounds of the City below.

"Then I'm on my own?" Ana asked quietly.

"Well, I can give you a little prophecy," offered the Lioness.

"You do that?" Ana asked snarkily. "I thought that was your husband's specialty."

"Two men will come for you," The Lioness said, her voice low. "One you love and one you no longer love. One will come in love, one will come in hate. They will come tonight."

"Great." Ana sighed. "That gives me lots of time to prepare," she added for sarcastic emphasis.

"Good," said the Lioness, "because there is someone climbing your tower." Ana sprang into action, the traps she'd set with her Gift alerting her to a presence at the same time the Lioness uttered her warning. She quickly grabbed Thunder, unsheathing the sword in a smooth gesture.

The Lioness was gone. "Thanks for your help," Ana said, only half-sarcastically.

Ana turned and quietly moved into the sitting room, then into the entrance way of the tower suite. She slowly laid her ear against the door, careful not to make any noise. She closed her eyes and probed the staircase with her Gift, a feat which was much harder than it should have been. She felt the person climbing the staircase trigger her second set of traps. And then she felt them enter into her awareness as they walked through the invisible cloud of her Gift. Inexplicably, she suddenly knew that there was only one person, and that it was a man who had no Gift.

Finally she heard him, as he ascended the last dozen steps in a steady march. He came to a stop on the landing and Ana heard the twinkle of her suite-bell, belatedly alerting her to a visitor. As the bell rang Ana suddenly felt her Gift falter, like a candle flickering. She stood, ear pressed against the door and sword raised, and let the echoes of the bell die out.

"Who's there?" she called, trying to make her voice sound far away. She wasn't sure how much she succeeded.

"Ana, let me in," came Darius's familiar tones.

"I will if you answer me a question," Ana said.

Darius laughed. "Alright then, let's have it."

"Why do I hate apples?" she asked.

Darius laughed again. "Because, I used them for target practice. For two months you couldn't hit a thing. I seem to recall you declared, 'I'll never eat an apple again.' Then you switched hands and suddenly you were ruining so many apples that the gardeners complained to Mother."

Ana smiled faintly at the memory. "All right you pass, come in."

"I'd forgotten how many stairs there were." Darius grinned, as Ana slowly opened the door. "And I'd _almost_ forgotten that queer little face of yours. I almost didn't recognize you earlier. Of course, I _did_ think you were dead, so I wasn't exactly expecting you to burst onto the scene like that."

"Oh Darius, I've missed you so," Ana cried, belatedly throwing her arms around her brother. "I can't believe what a mess I've walked into."

Darius shut the door behind him and locked it as Ana looked on in approval. "You couldn't have come back at a better time, Ana," Darius said seriously.

"Tell me what the situation is Darius," Ana asked, steeling herself, "don't leave anything out. I want to know what happened here."

"It started about six months ago," Darius began, but Ana suddenly held up her hand.

"Wait, just a moment," she said. She closed her eyes and reached for her Gift, which was surprisingly hard. It felt like there was a barrier between her and the fiery tingle of her Gift. She pushed a little harder, felt a strangely electric tingle, and then was suddenly filled with the tickle of magic. Quickly, she directed her power to the walls of the room, making it completely soundproof to both man and magic.

"All right, go ahead," Ana said.

"What did you do?" asked Darius.

"I'll tell you if you promise to believe me." Ana replied.

"Deal."

"I used my magic—don't you dare say the word 'witch'" she said, looking pointedly at Darius's smile. He crossed his arms and gestured for her to continue. "As I was saying, I used my Gift to make the room soundproof. It's harder than it should be, but I can still use it here." Ana watched Darius's face closely to gauge his reaction to her answer, but his face gave no indication of his thoughts.

There was a pause, then Darius said, slowly but clearly, "Some day I would like you to tell me all about this _Gift_ of yours. But I think that now is not the time."

"Yes," Ana said rather impatiently, "tell me what happened here."

"It's been a bad year in Thaylia. There was bad harvest in almost all of our southern provinces. There wasn't enough food stored away for the winter and almost everyone in the country felt its effects. There was unrest and more than the usual rebellion; what happens when people are hungry." Darius paused, and for the first time Ana saw the shadows under her brother's eyes, his hollow cheeks, the lines where there had once been smooth skin.

"Mother was doing everything in her power to suppress civil war. She rationed, she soothed, she went hungry so that her people could be fed. It was working, but slowly.

"When Marc came, he seemed like an angel of good news. He brought with him a much needed shipment of food from the western provinces. Everyone loved him instantly. They needed a hero and he seemed like the perfect man: a prince, both charming and handsome, fleeing the Usurper to his thrown.

"I was away searching for you when he came to the City and when I returned I found that he already had everyone under his spell, especially Marghi and Mother. I have to admit, I hated him just for that. The cunning bastard had Marghi and Mother both on his leash. They seemed to listen to him more than they thought themselves.

"And then Mother got sick. The doctors say that it was probably from stress and malnutrition, but I was skeptical. Mother was always in the best of health. Half the country would get the sniffles and she'd just shrug it off. No," Darius lowered his voice, "I think she was murdered. I think that Marcus killed her, but I have no proof, no evidence, nothing more than a suspicion."

"I know how he did it," Ana whispered. "He used his Gift." Ana's eyes were suddenly filled with tears, "I could have stopped him. If I had been here, she wouldn't have died. If I had killed him before…"

"Ana." Darius was suddenly kneeling in front of her. "Ana, you cannot beat yourself up over the past. Marcus killed her, not you."

Ana raised her eyes. "I will kill him."

"You will have to get in line," growled Darius.

Ana peered into her brother's face. "I'm glad you're on my side," she said. "I'm glad that you, at least, haven't fallen under his spell."

Darius stood, then gestured at Thunder, lying on her lap. "Quite a pretty little stick you have there."

Ana smiled. "She'll happily poke you for saying such a thing about her."

Darius bent as if to pick up the scabbard, but he paused. "May I?" he asked, with a courtly bow. Ana laughed and handed him the sword.

"Wow," admired Darius softly, as he drew the blade with a quiet hiss. "The balance is absolutely perfect. I don't think I've ever seen such beautiful craftsmanship." Darius smiled warmly, "Whoever made that sword loved it very much. And whoever gave it to you must love _you_ very much."

"I have—had—another sword once," Ana sighed wistfully. "One even more beautiful. It's made out of crystal and seems fragile enough to shatter, but it's harder than steel and never loses its edge."

"Then your story is true," said Darius. "It really happened."

Ana nodded. "But no one believes me."

"I believe you. I've seen too many strange things in my life to simply dismiss something because it seems impossible. And I know you Ana, you're too taken with telling the truth, no matter how hard it is to hear." He smiled broadly. "I've missed your sarcasm and your blatant truths. You always put everything into such an interesting perspective."

The electric lanterns suddenly flickered—making them both jump—then died completely, plunging the room into darkness.

"He shut off the electricity." Ana whispered.

"But why?" Darius said, stumbling into her in the darkness.

"I have a theory about that," Ana muttered, reaching for her Gift. The slight resistance was gone, allowing her to easily tap into her Gift and fill the room with a steady, violet light that hovered over her shoulder. Darius was staring at the little violet light, his mouth wide open.

"It is so he can use his Gift unrestricted." Ana said, whirling around. "Listen to me Darius. When they come, you must leave Marc to me."

"No," Darius shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the violet light and looking hard at Ana. "That bastard has taken too much away from me."

"Darius, please. You don't have the weapons to fight him. You must be ready to fight the people who are coming with him."

"How do you know he will not come alone?"

"Because he is already here." Ana said, calmly. "There are ten others, and they are climbing the stairs as we speak."

"How do you know that?" Darius whispered. He cast a frightened look toward the little violet ball that lit the room.

"Believe me, I know." Ana dashed to her trunk and started rummaging for knives. She strapped one onto her leg. With the two already in her boots and Thunder she would be well, if not ideally, armed.

Darius was loading his pistol. "Put that down," said Ana. "It won't work." She tossed him a pair of long knives, then a couple of smaller knives. "Use these."

"Why won't my pistol work?" Darius asked calmly.

"There will be too much magic in the air," Ana replied, just as calm.

"Well then," Darius muttered under his breath, strapping on his own knives. "Any idea about how much time we have?"He asked, gripping a couple of daggers in his fists.

"They should be here right about…now…" Ana said.

They heard the sound of quiet boot-falls on the landing beyond, as men tried to quietly gather outside the door...

Which was promptly blasted in by an unseen force, rocketing off its hinges as it flew through the air.

Its movement was suddenly halted as Ana held up her right hand. She lowered it out of her way with her Gift, then sprang forward to meet the men who charged through the open portal, swinging Thunder in a short arc.

The first man through the doorway died immediately at the edge of her blade. The second followed close behind the first, falling as Ana's sword ripped a hole through his gut. Then the soldiers were pouring past her, their bayonets extended as they sought to surround her.

Darius dove into their midst, his daggers flashing as he wove his way through the men. He put his back to Ana, crouching low to cut at the soldier's exposed feet.

With Darius at her back, Ana danced among the soldiers of her homeland with Thunder as her deadly partner, weaving a path through the men with her whirling blade.

And she laughed as she fought. She laughed because it felt so right, so very right, to finally be able to fight.

Yet, despite the laughter which bubbled from her lips, it was eerily quiet as they fought in the light of her violet Gift; the strike of metal on metal seemed oddly muted, the grunts and groans of dying men fading away beneath the whispered whoosh of blades whipping through the air.

Then quite suddenly, the trickle of men died away, and Ana was standing with Thunder pointed directly at the heart of the final soldier. She reached for her Gift, incapacitating him with a wall of air.

"_You_ are not going to die for long time." Ana said, her voice grim. "You're incapacitated at the moment, but your heart and lungs work just fine. And can you scream all you want because no one is going to hear you at the top of this tower. Now I'm giving you a choice. Either you can tell me what I want to know, or I will torture you until you tell me anyway. What would you rather have happen?"

"I'm calling your bluff," the soldier panted, "you don't have the balls for torture."

Ana's heart pounded, and she felt her Gift pulsing along with it. "Give me your knife," she snapped to Darius. She turned to the wounded man. "Since you seem to think I am lacking balls," she said sinisterly, "I've decided to take yours in recompense."

Darius handed her the knife. "Hold him still," Ana said, as the man tried to struggle against his bonds. She tapped her knife against the subtle bulge in his pants. "We wouldn't want to miss and cut off anything else, now would we?"

"Fine!" The man yelled, his voice strained, "What do you want to know? I'll tell you, just let me go."

Ana hid her triumphant smile. "Where is Marcus? What are his plans, why isn't he here?"

The man eyed the knife Ana still held. "He sent us here to distract you while he and the Empress get married."

Ana lunged forward and pressed the knife against the man's throat. "You lie," she hissed.

"No!" The man shrieked, "It's the truth. I ain't ever heard of an Empress marrying without an engagement first, but that's what he said!"

Ana struck out with her Gift and the soldier fell unconscious to the floor. She turned to Darius. "We need to stop them."

"You have my sword, Lady," Darius said, falling to one knee.

Ana stared down at her older brother, chagrinned by his unexpected gesture. "Get up, old man," she said, "You can swear fealty to me later—after you prove your worth."

Darius rose smoothly, then bowed—the bow of a petitioner to an Empress.

"You know," Ana said roughly, around the sudden tightness in her throat. Tears prickled in her eyes and she felt a great swell of love and appreciation for her brother's loyalty. At least, in this, she would not be completely alone. "You could be hanged for that. Treason is a serious crime."

Darius straightened from his bow, his face serious. "We will both swing if we do not find a way to stop Marghi from marrying." He sighed. "I know that I am supposed to be the brilliant strategist, but at the moment I'm at a complete loss as to what to do."

Ana scrutinized her brother for a moment, her mind whirling. "You said that you still have a few loyal men to call on, right?" she asked.

Darius grunted. "Few enough. Most everyone has fallen beneath the smooth charm of that murdering bastard, but I still have a score of men I call loyal."

A slow smile spread across Ana's face, lighting up her eyes until they danced with a violet fire. Darius laughed, throwing back his head in a sudden glee. "I know that smile," he giggled.

"It is a good thing, brother dearest," Ana said, with a wicked gleam in her eye, "that when even the most brilliant strategists fall short, _I _at least, have a plan."

~ ~:~ ~


	71. Till Death Do We Part

A Note from Nessa'fur:

I am sorry. Enough said.

~Nessa'fur

Chapter Seventy: Until Death Do We Part

"This is insane," Darius muttered, as they crouched in the bushes outside the giant cathedral that was the religious center of the Empire. The cathedral was situated at the center of a vast garden, which was faithfully attended by the church's pious gardeners. A courtyard, paved with smooth white marble, led up to the church's steps, interrupted only by an enormous fountain which featured Thesis—the One True God and Protector of the Empire—standing proud at the reigns of his great Chariot. Water cascaded from the mouths of his six horses, and from the ends of the lightning bolt which he held high in his left hand.

"Shut up," Ana snapped. "I didn't see you coming up with any better plans." Darius rolled his eyes, muttering something beneath his breath which sounded suspiciously like, "Why did _I _get stuck with two bloody insane witches for sisters?" His men were hidden in the foliage around them. They were a grim lot, hardened warriors all. They had served with Darius for many years, trusting their lives to his leadership. If Darius said that Marc was a threat to the Empire and needed to be taken out they trusted it to be true, no questions asked. Ana admired their solidarity, though it reminded her rather painfully of Lucas and the King's Own.

She shook her head. Now was not the time to be distracted by thoughts of what might have been—they were here for an urgent purpose.

Escaping from the tower had been ridiculously easy. It soon became obvious that Marc had underestimated her once again. The dozen or so soldiers stationed at the entrance to her tower might have caused her a bit of delay had she been alone, but between Darius and Thunder they were quickly dispatched. After that, it was a simple matter of sneaking past the soldiers patrolling through the Palace proper. They had parted for a time—Darius to muster his men and Ana to discover where the wedding was to take place. It was an easy enough divination: every courtier in the palace was buzzing with the news of what would take place in the Chapel at midnight. It was whispered that for the first time in the history of the Empire there was to be an Emperor as well as an Empress—it was enough to keep even the most gossip-hungry courtier sated for eternity.

They had met up again in the gardens surrounding the Chapel, trusting that the fifty or so soldiers patrolling in front of the Chapel steps would be blinded by the bright lights that illuminated the fountain and the courtyard beyond.

But time was against them and they were outnumbered two-to-one. Of course, none of the soldiers standing between them and the ceremony had magic; a disability Ana was eager to exploit.

Ana watched them patrolling for one minute more, then nodded to Darius. "It is time." Darius grumbled something under his breath—she caught the words "fool plan" and "witchcraft"—but he gave the appropriate signals to his men. The soldiers melted into the garden, blending in with the shadows as they got as close to the courtyard and the patrolling soldiers as they could. Ana watched the soldiers across the courtyard carefully, looking for any tell-tale sign that they had been detected. The plan hinged on Darius's men being able to surprise the soldiers while they were distracted.

"And now for the distraction," Ana muttered, absent-mindedly lifting Thunder out of her sheath to make sure the blade was clear and readily accessible.

She closed her eyes and reached for her Gift, pressing against the sticky barrier that seemed to be caused by the close proximity of electricity.

Ana was counting on the fact that Marc wouldn't be able to use his Gift against her. It had made her wonder, when she had first encountered Marc, and then again during the battle in the tower, why he did not use spells against her or Darius. That strange fact had gotten her thinking, and she had come to the conclusion that between keeping Marghi hoodwinked and holding the doorways open, his Gift was thoroughly extended.

She hoped that her guess was right, because if not, she was going to go into battle sorely disadvantaged.

Ana felt the power building against her fingertips, itching to be released. She let it grow and grow, shaping it with her intentions and the spells that Tohmas had taught her so long ago. She had never attempted to weave a spell so large and complex consciously before (she discounted what had happened on the plains beyond Isthma, because that had been completely _unconscious _and _involuntary_) and she knew that her Gift would be greatly depleted once she released it.

Finally the spell was done. Ana's eyes snapped open as the power _twanged_ away from her like an arrow being released from a taunt bowstring. She felt the magic moving through the air, though she could not see it, and then, with a brilliant splash of color, it landed, right on target.

The soldiers on the steps yelled and pointed as the Fountain of Thesis suddenly came to life. The six horses pawed the ground, steam billowing from their nostrils as they snorted. Thesis lifted his lightning bolt high and roared, snapping the reigns in his right hand. With a mighty groan, the stone chariot tried to lurch forward, spraying water everywhere as the pipes were wrenched from the stone. Thesis roared again, turning to face the terrified soldiers on the steps. He lifted his right hand and hurled the lightning bolt at the men.

Who turned, without exception, and fled, throwing down their weapons. The stone lightning bolt shattered on the empty steps.

Ana giggled helplessly as she ran forward. Next to her, Darius wore a rather foolish looking grin as he matched her pace. They sprinted the length of the courtyard, dashing around the fountain, where Thesis was settling back into his heroic pose, among heaps of shattered stone and the jagged ends of broken pipes where water still spilled forth.

At the foot of the stairs they rejoined Darius's men, who looked impassively between her and the now quiet fountain. Apparently it took more than a raging God to disturb their discipline. Ana smiled to herself, glad that less courageous men had barred the way before them.

Darius turned to her and kissed her on the cheek, not even breaking stride as they began to run up the steps. "I never thought I would see the day when Thesis himself would rise up and chase away those yellow-bellied swine," he giggled, unsheathing his dagger. "I take back all of my earlier comments, you are obviously the superior strategist." They ran up the last few steps in perfect tandem, Darius's men close behind them.

"And now for the fun part," Ana muttered, casually flicking her hand towards the double doors which promptly burst open, crushing several of the men who stood in the entryway. She gestured and the men who filled the entire vestibule were bowled over as easily as daisies bending in the wind, leaving a clear path down the middle of them. At the far end of the entry hall Ana could see the gigantic doors which lead to the sanctuary.

"Now!" She yelled, rushing forward. She could feel Darius and his men close on her heels as they sprinted the length of the entryway, racing to get to the other side before her spell wore off and the soldiers were able to regain their feet.

They weren't going to make it. They were still twenty feet from the great wooden doors when the first soldier lurched to his feet. He swung a bayonet at her, but she ducked and rolled, chopping his feet out from underneath him. She completed the roll and used the momentum to bash her way through the defenses of the two men who confronted her. She didn't even attempt to engage them, choosing instead a few well placed blows that soon put her past them.

Behind her Darius and his men were hard pressed. They'd been caught strung out, and were now fighting individual battles in the middle of a roiling mass of enemies. Summoning the last vestiges of her Gift, Ana yelled a spell, flinging her hands in front of her. Once again the sea of soldiers parted, leaving little islands where Darius's men stood panting. They quickly recovered however, rushing to surround her as she stood facing the doors that lead to the sanctuary.

She rested her hands on the doors, panting. She could feel the spell that held the doors shut and prevented any sound from penetrating into the sanctuary. But she was powerless to break it. She had no more magic left—she'd expended the last of it in that final spell. She could pound on the door until the stars shone green in a purple sky and no one inside would hear her.

Darius shouted orders as his men cleared a space around her, hurrying to shove aside the immobilized soldiers before they reanimated. They formed a tight circle around her, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder as they prepared to fight. Even as she looked the first soldiers stumbled toward them, thrusting their bayonets.

Ana heard Darius's voice, ringing over the sounds of battle. "Go, Ana! We will hold them off."

She closed her eyes, her palms flat on the wood of the door, and sent a silent plea to the Gods.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the sounds of battle slowly faded from her ears, replaced by a low, droning voice which tickled her memory.

"…is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and somberly…"

_The Chaplain_, Ana thought, opening her eyes. She stood on the other side of the door, in the middle of a long aisle. On either side courtiers were squashed into the pews, straining their necks to see the front of the sanctuary. From where she stood Ana could see the Chaplain standing in front of the altar, his hands raised in the traditional manner, as he spoke the marriage rites over Marghi and Marc, who knelt before him.

"…Into this estate these two persons come now to be joined, as others have been joined before." The Chaplain paused, his eyes wrinkling as he smiled down at them. Ana felt the bile rising in her throat as she remembered Marghi fighting with the Chaplain over the issue of marriage. It was widely known that the Chaplain disapproved of the how long Marghi had gone without marrying.

_Say the next line, you old fraud_, Ana thought, glaring at him.

The Chaplain turned his smiling face to the crowd in the pews. "If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

"I can!"

Ana's words rang out across the sanctuary, echoing across the high ceiling like a peal of bells. There were a few gasps from the courtiers as they turned to behold her, standing tall and proud, with hair that billowed around her like the flames of a fire and eyes that burned with their silent fury. In her hand was a sword, a sword that dripped blood as she lifted it to point at the couple that kneeled before the altar.

Whispers broke out among the spectators, whispers that hissed and buzzed in the air. But they fizzled and died when she opened her mouth to speak again, for her words cut through the clamor as easily as a knife through lace.

"You ask for just cause, Chaplain, as to why these two may not be _lawfully_ joined together," Ana said, "What more just a cause can there be than the very law itself? Every man, woman, and child in the Empire knows that it is _not_ _lawful_ for an Empress to wed a known traitor and murderer," She looked around her, then sniffed dismissively, "—present company exempted, it would seem."

The courtiers erupted into aggravated exclamations, their individual words swallowed by the pandemonium of the crowd.

Ana ignored them, looking down the length of the aisle into the face of her sister, the Empress. A slow smile spread across Marghi's beautiful face as their gazes met. For a moment, Ana dared to hope that she had somehow managed to break the hold Marc had over her—and then she threw back her head and laughed.

The noise of the crowd sputtered and died again, swallowed beneath the sound of Marghi's maniacal laughter. Her laugh filled the sanctuary with its sound, but it was neither merry nor light; instead it seemed to make the lights shine less brightly in their sockets.

Finally the terrible laughter ended, its echoes drifting up into the rafters to die. Silence reigned for a moment, then Marghi spoke, her words quiet, but heard by all.

"I expected more from you Ana," She said, her voice slightly admonishing. "After all, you are my sister." Marghi cocked her head to the side, and her glare was suddenly hard and flinty, like a mean schoolgirl who has just spotted her favorite prey. "But younger sisters never know more than their elders." She leaned forward, emphasizing each word. "_I_ _AM_ _THE_ _LAW_." Marghi giggled suddenly, then her face became hard again. "I can marry Marc because _I say it is lawful_!"

Ana looked into Marghi's eyes and saw the flickering fires of madness dancing there. _I will kill him for what he did to you, _she thought _I will kill for what he did to me, and to Tortall_.

"No, Marghi." Ana said, even as Marghi's last words were still echoing in the rafters. She shook her head. "Don't you remember the most important lesson you ever taught me?"

Marghi was silent, her mad eyes boring into Ana's sad ones. Ana leaned forward, like she was imparting a great secret. "There are some laws that even Gods must bend to," she whispered.

Then she leapt forward, her sword leveled at Marc, where he still knelt in front of the aisle.

"With the Gods as my witness," Ana yelled, "And my blood as my right; I say that you cannot marry this man—Marghareta De'Mar—because he has committed a mortal crime. I, Ana De'Mar, accuse you, Marcus, bastard of Conté, of treason and regicide; of the murder of my mother and the brainwashing of my sister. I invoke the ancient right of blood and demand a trial by combat, where the Gods will decide where the guilt lies."

The sanctuary was silent as an empty tomb, the courtiers stunned into silence. No one had invoked the blood right in anyone's living memory, but it was the oldest of all laws—handed down by Thesis himself to the first Empress of Thaylia, Morgann the Great.

Not even Marghi, in all her madness, would dare refuse Ana's right to a trial by combat. Ana looked into his sister's eyes and saw a battle raging there. Marghi was frozen, her sight turned inward, her mouth open in a silent scream as the magic raged through her. _He will kill her! _Ana thought, her body moving before her mind caught up with its intentions. She threw herself forward, yelling a battle cry as she charged toward where Marc still knelt in front of the altar.

He rose, turning slowly to meet her charge. His handsome face smiled once again as he faced her.

The world seemed to drop away from them. Only Marc and Ana existed, alone in their private world once again. Her vision narrowed to where he stood, laughing.

"I must give you props," he laughed, a long sword suddenly appearing in his right fist. "You _do_ know how to make an entrance."

He sprang toward her and their blades met in a violent crash of metal

~:~

Ana rolled as Marc's blade hissed through the air above her, coming up with Thunder swinging at his exposed legs. Marc darted away, giving her time to set her feet, before her thrust at her again, pushing her backwards down the aisle, as he rained the blows down upon her.

Ana parried him with every ounce of her skill, every ounce of her energy and her being, but he was unthinkably fast and had the skill of a master swordsman. She winced as she felt the tip of his sword rip past her shoulder as she ducked away from him. Ana gritted her teeth, turning aside his follow up with the edge of the long dagger she held in her right fist. She darted forward, bringing Thunder around in a sweeping side-cut.

Marc laughed as he dodged her attack, circling around her as he switched hands behind his back. He brought the sword up sharply, easily parrying her thrust. For a few moments she pressed him backwards, toward the steps that led up to the altar, but then he side-stepped her cross-cut, skipping effortlessly away from her hissing blades.

They broke apart for a moment, and Ana tried not to pant as she watched Marc's torso, hoping for an indication of his next move.

"Where is my precious brother now?" Marc sneered, "I suppose it would be too much to ask that Li Dubyn happened to finish him off for me?"

Ana clenched her jaw as she darted close to him, furiously swinging Thunder in a reverse upper cut. Marc skipped agilely aside, giggling as he thrust at her.

"Actually," Marc said, leering at her as she parried his cut with a long dagger. "I hope he survived." He easily parried her follow-up, switching hands as he spun around her. "I hope I get to see the look on his face right before I kill him, as I tell him that I killed you first."

He struck at her, then twisted his sword, catching the hilt of her dagger in its blade and flinging it out of Ana's hand. His blade sliced across her right palm, carving a gaping trench where blood welled and overflowed in red currents.

Ana felt the pain an instant later, throbbing sharply as blood seeped from the cut with every pump of her raging heart.

She saw his sword coming toward her almost in slow motion, the blade flashing as it plunged toward her right side.

She could have dodged the blow easily, could have blocked the thrust with Thunder and continued the fight.

But she could not have lasted much longer against him, for she was crippled without the use of her right hand. Without two weapons she was sadly disadvantaged against a master swordsman with whom she could not hope to compare.

_I will be dead either way, _she thought, _but maybe this way I can at least take him with me. _

_And besides, _another part of her whispered, _I am sick of fighting. I am ready for the end. _

So she clenched her right fist closed tightly, her fingers dripping blood, and she stepped into the thrust instead of away from it.

Marc's sword punched through her stomach, burying itself up to the hilt in her abdomen. Pain seared through her body, instantly sapping the strength from her limbs in a violent concussion.

She felt her last breath break from her lips, a gasping cough that left the metallic tang of blood on her tongue.

She met Marc's brown eyes and wondered how she had ever thought them beautiful. They were the color of decay, of rotting garbage, and steaming shit. They were the color of disease, of deceit and greed and hateful malice.

She looked into Marc's eyes and saw her sister, laughing manically in her madness. She saw Darius, his daggers flashing as he yelled a war cry and sprinted next to her. She saw Illieno, his face sad as he watched her push Firedance away; she saw Lucas bellowing with laughter and Tohmas's eyes crinkling in approval. She saw the knowing smile Lara flashed as she commiserated; the glint of torchlight off Karma's dark hair as she knelt; the golden sunlight of morning shining on the towers of Corus.

She saw herself standing on a balcony, watching the sun set over the Tortallian city. Below her, the streets were empty, deserted. Dust blew in eddies through lifeless doorways and gathered beneath the fractured panes of broken windows.

She turned away from the forsaken city and her gaze fell on Will, who stood silhouetted in a doorway, his face set in a familiar impassivity…but his eyes burned into her, their sapphire depths setting her aflame as, once again, he lent her his own strength and purpose.

And then Will's eyes became Terrance's, whose amethyst depths flashed a familiar cheeky grin.

The face of the son she would never have melted away, and once again she looked upon Marc as he realized his triumph. She saw the glee erupt into his eyes and the slow smirk that started on his lips. She watched the laugh building in him, even as her life's blood poured over his fists.

She summoned herself, pouring the last of her failing energy into her final duty—to Thaylia, to Tortall, to her Mother and her father, to Marghi and Darius, Lucas, Lara, Tohmas, Illieno, Karma and Will. This was her parting gift to the world, to the people she loved…but most importantly, to herself. _I will not give him the satisfaction_, she thought.

Her left arm snapped up, her blade cutting across Marc's smirking visage with all the force of a striking cobra.

She felt the hot, sticky splatter of blood across her face, but then the world exploded into a burst of flickering stars which loomed in her vision until she knew no more.

~ ~:~ ~


	72. Choices

Chapter Seventy-one: Choices

White.

Bright, clear, shining, white all around her.

White, like the world after the first snow of winter.

White, like a thick fog.

White, like the inside of a cloud.

White fingers of mist dancing and swirling in little eddies. She could see the fog hovering before her eyes, but she felt no wind upon her cheek, and the mist did not bead on her skin like vapor should.

_If I even have skin here_, Ana thought. She could not feel her body, and when she told her arm to lift nothing happened.

A form swirled out of the mist, its familiar shape resolving to the smiling face of the Lioness.

The Lioness stopped before her, looking at Ana with her wise eyes.

"Where am I?" Ana asked, her voice apparently existing without the lungs and vocal chords to produce it.

"You are in the Divine Realm," Alanna said quietly, "We had to bring you here."

"Am I dead, then?" Ana whispered.

Alanna shook her head. "That is not exactly how this works. You are neither alive nor dead, you simply are."

Ana crossed her arms and discovered that she could. "So what now?" she asked.

Alanna looked at her seriously, "Now you make a choice," she said, "As I made a choice. For your bravery and your sacrifice, the Gods of this Realm offer you a place among them, here, in the Divine Realm. Or," she continued, "You can return to the world in which you were born, into your dying body."

"Then you cannot heal me?" Ana asked.

Alanna's eyes were filled with a great sadness. "I'm afraid that is not in my power," she said. "Others may decide whether you live or die, but not I."

Ana considered. "So what you are saying is that right now I can either go back and very possibly _die_, or, I can become a goddess and live forever in the Divine Realm."

Alanna nodded, her face solemn and her gaze filled with mystery.

For just a moment, Ana allowed herself to wonder what it was like to live in the Divine Realm, what it was that Alanna did here.

Alanna smiled suddenly, crossing her arms. "It is a singular sort of existence," she said, with laughter in her voice. "Gods may acquire powers through varied means, but all of us are essentially gifted with certain inherent powers. Often, one's abilities are one's strengths. George, who had the Sight when he was alive, found his ability to see and move through time enhanced and expanded. I, who was always very good at reading people, found that I could now read their minds as well."

Ana stared at her. "You can read my mind?" she asked, incredulous.

Alanna grinned. "One of my more useful powers," she laughed, "With most people, I can only catch their prominent thoughts, the ones that flicker across the surface of their minds. You, however, I can pretty much always read."

Ana's jaw dropped. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" she asked.

Alanna shrugged, completely unapologetic. "It was never relevant," she said simply.

"Alanna is full of tricks," Came another familiar voice.

Ana turned—she could now feel her feet and her body, though she could not feel what it was that supported her, if indeed she had mass—and found George Cooper striding toward them. He made his way through the mist, to his wife's side, giving her a friendly kiss before he settled his hand around her waist. She scowled up at him, though she did not step away.

"Now you decide to show up," she said, "I thought you were going to be too busy to remember Ana."

George quirked an eyebrow at her, throwing her a saucy grin. "Have you ever known me to be late for an appointment?" He asked.

Alanna returned his smile with an ironic look. "Actually," she said, "I could name a time or two…"

Ana shifted her feet, suddenly cognizant of the fact that she could _feel _herself becoming more and more corporeal the longer she was in this place. The mist was retreating, drawing away to reveal a floor of white stone that glittered like diamonds.

"Why do I feel like I'm getting more and more solid?" Ana asked, looking up at George Cooper's mischievous face. He winked at her, saying, "You are becoming part of the Divine Realm," he said. "If you stay here long enough, it will soak into you, and you will be as one of us. But it is a slow process, so do not worry; we will still be able to return you to your body if you decide so."

Ana looked down at the floor of this place, this world, which offered to be an adventure beyond her wildest dreams. Another thought hit her, and she looked up at Alanna.

"Yes," the Lioness said in answer to her silent question. She grinned, her eyes glittering in a way that was not altogether human. "But he cannot hide from us forever," she said, and her voice was filled with a very human eagerness. "Li Dubyn learned that the hard way, though he slipped away from us at the last." Alanna scowled again, "I still say that there are those among us who might be aiding him," she muttered.

George patted her arm. "We shall find them out, dearest, you know that."

Alanna rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Instead she turned her knowing gaze on Ana. George's smile was just as knowing, though it had a roguish edge that Alanna's lacked.

The time had come to make her choice.

"You already know how I choose." Ana accused.

"Yes," Alanna and George said, at the same time. "But _you _have to know it too."

Ana didn't need to think about it. She'd known, since the moment the Lioness had first put the quandary to her, what her choice was.

"I don't want to fight anymore." She whispered, her eyes filled with tears.

"Good luck," George grinned at her, "From what I remember about humans, they certainly are a quarrelsome bunch."

~:~

The first thing she noticed was the fog, a thick, heavy blanket of nothingness that held her wrapped in its gray cocoon. It seemed to hold her mind as well, for her thoughts were as slow and sluggish as the wispy tendrils which curled around her. She could not seem to remember who she was or how she had come to be here, though a distant part of her whispered that she must keep moving, must keep walking.

She could see no more than a few feet ahead of her, but the landscape that resolved into her vision was just as blank and featureless as the fog that enshrouded her. There was nothing here, nothing to tell her where she was or where she was going to.

For there _was_ a path beneath her feet, a path that had known the tread of countless feet for ages upon ages; each following this same route, until the way had been permanently etched into the colorless dirt. The road twisted and turned, snaking through the gray land in seemingly random undulations, for surely there was nothing in the bleak landscape that warranted such a circuitous route…yet, she followed the winding road with precise steps, for her instinct told her that she must not stray from the path.

She may very well have been walking in circles, for all the headway she seemed to make. Nothing changed, except the meandering progress of the road, which sometimes curved so far that she was certain it must loop back upon itself, yet not once was there an intersection of any sort. She had no way to know how long or how far she had walked, for there was no sense of time in this place. Seconds may have passed, or years or millennia while she trudged on, her feet propelled onward by a purpose she could not name.

Sometimes, she thought that there really _was_ nothing beyond that next curve in the path; that the land she walked through was created just beyond her sightline, created because her eyes expected to see something, because her feet expected a path to tread.

At other times, she thought she glimpsed someone walking the road ahead of her, just beyond the place where vision receded into the gray mist. Then, she would call out, her voice painfully loud in the heavy silence that permeated this place, but if there truly was someone there then they did not hear her, or chose not to respond to her desperate pleas.

Sometimes, she heard voices in the distance; voices which drifted in and out of her hearing as if carried her way by a stray breeze, but there was no wind here, nothing moving at all, save herself. The voices spoke words that she could understand, but they had no meaning, though occasionally she thought she recognized one or more of the voices. After all, what did phrases like, "massive internal bleeding" and "induced coma" have to do with her here, in this place? What did it matter if one of those familiar voices was so very sorry and another could not disguise the sorrow and fear in his words of comfort?

Surely they were talking of someone else. Surely those words were meant for other ears, and she was just happening to overhear them. Surely no one could care for her as those voices cared, else why would she be here, in this place that had never known love?

She was alone, utterly alone in a world where there was no sorrow, no fear, no beauty.

So she wandered; lost in the gray fog.

It may have been a great time later, or perhaps no time at all, when the road fell away before her.

She paused, uncertain as she looked out over the great, black abyss that barred the way. The road ran along the edge of the cliff, disappearing into the mist on both her left and her right. She looked first one way then the other, hesitating. She knew that she had to keep going…but which way was the right way?

Then, out of the fog to her left, a voice called out a name, called it with such longing and hope that she felt her heart lift in expectation.

"_Ana! Ana!"_

She knew that voice.

She knew that name.

"_Ana!"_

That was _her_ name.

"I am Ana," she whispered. And with that recognition came memory, memory of the life that she had lived. She remembered that she had been born in a City that lay beside a Sea that shone like glass in the sunlight; that she had played games of war and adventure with her imagination as playmate and a palace as playground; that she had loved the brother, the sister, the mother that accepted her, even as she hated those who shunned her for being what she was.

_What was I? _She wondered, but then all wonderment was driven from her mind as the voice called her name again and she recognized its falling tones.

"_Ana!" _her Mother called. _"Ana!"_

"Mother!" Ana cried in response. "Mother! I am here!"

And then She was there, standing on the left-hand fork with her arms open and her face smiling a smile of such pride that tears welled in Ana's eyes.

"Mother," Ana whispered, and her voice broke.

"Come to me, my child," The Empress of Thaylia said, her face just as proud and beautiful as ever. "Let me hold you again. Let us walk together along this path."

Ana started toward her, but something in her Mother's face made her hesitate.

Something was not quite right…

But Ana had no chance to pin it down; to identify just what it was that was _wrong_, because another voice cried out from behind her.

"No, Ana! Do not listen to her; she would bring you into darkness!"

That voice.

That voice which had only ever existed in the deepest recesses of her memory, teasing her, haunting her with its lullaby.

Ana turned and looked upon her father for the first time since she was a very small child.

Thom of Trebond looked a great deal like she did, and it was odd to see her features hardened and twisted into a masculine mold. The beard was especially unnerving, as was the dark robe he wore—a robe that was terribly familiar…

And then the rest of her memories slammed into her with a force that made her stumble. All at once she remembered what it was to feel her Gift pulsing through her veins, to swing her swords in deadly tandem, to run and laugh and joke with Karma and Illieno, to listen to Lucas spin a tale of glory, to look up and find Will's blue eyes fixed upon her with such burning force.

"Father," Ana whispered, staring at that face; that face which bore such a resemblance to his sister's…

"You are dead," she said, her voice flat. She turned to look down the left hand fork, at her Mother. "You are both dead."

And then it hit her: the realization that she had been holding at bay.

"I am dead," she whispered, her eyes full of unshed tears.

"No, my love," her Mother said.

"Not yet," said her father, from behind her. She turned her head back to look at him, as he waited down the right fork of the road. "You are gravely injured though, your time grows short."

"I can heal you!" Her Mother cried, drawing Ana's eyes back to Her. "I can heal you if you come with me!"

"No!" cried Thom, "She lies! Only I can heal your wounds. You must come with me."

Ana looked back and forth between them, utterly torn. Who was she supposed to believe? The Mother, who had raised her and loved her despite all of the disappointments she brought? Or the father, who had gifted her with such a beautiful, terrible heritage and then left her to deal with its effects?

Ana turned toward her Mother, her eyes feasting upon the face which she had never dared to hope she would see again. Her feet moved forward of their own accord, drawn toward the open arms which she had so longed to feel wrapped around her.

Then she looked up into her Mother's eyes and _knew_ what it was that was wrong.

Her eyes.

There was something wrong with her eyes.

The shape, the color…those were the same as in her memory. But the expression in them was all wrong, for never had her Mother's eyes shone with such hunger, such alien intensity.

Her feet stumbled to a halt, her mind whirring.

"Why do you pause, Ana darling?" Her Mother's voice said, but in her eyes there was no love, no human concern. "Come to your mother, and let me heal you."

"You are not my Mother." Ana said, with quiet certainty. She turned to look back at the semblance of her father. "You are not my father." She backed away from them, back down the way she had come. "You can not heal me!" she cried.

Then the facade of her parents was gone, burned away by the horrendous brilliancy that overtook the two figures that towered before her. They seemed to expand, to grow until they blotted out everything else in her vision.

She shrank as they swelled, cowering beneath the awful power that they exuded. Her knees buckled beneath her, dumping her unto the gray dirt, but though she threw up her hands to shield her eyes from that dreadful brightness, she did not look away.

The one on the right was male—or man-shaped—his skin black as ebony. He wore golden armor over a massive, powerful frame and on his head was a crown that blazed like the rays of the sun. To her right was a female, a female of such terrible beauty that it could not be human. Her green eyes glittered with that same hunger, their perfect, almond shapes glowing like two emerald orbs beneath dark, wavy locks that held a crown that shone like the moon. She wore a dress that left her ivory breasts bare, the bell-like skirt sweeping around her with unearthly grace.

"You are wrong, Ana," said the woman, and her voice was the sound of wolves howling, the soft hiss of a sword being drawn from its sheath, the rushing of flood waters. Ana trembled beneath the power of that voice, and though she clapped her hands over her ears, she could not shut out the sound of it. "I _am_ your Mother, and I _can_ heal you. You have only to choose me, and I will heal your hurts."

"My sister is not the only one with the power to heal your wounds," said the man, and his voice held all the power of a charging warhorse, of a thrusting blade. She felt she must bleed from its cutting might, from the sharp force that beat at her eardrums until she thought she would scream in agony. "I, too, can heal you, if you choose my way."

Ana clenched her fists, fighting with all her strength against the power that compelled her to speak, to choose, to pick a side.

She remembered the quiet conviction in Will's eyes, and spoke, though her voice was strained as she said, "What is the catch?"

Her words seemed to break through the terrible energy that hammered at her, to diminish it just enough that she was able to raise her chin and look, once again, upon the two who stood before her.

"If you are who I think you are," she continued, her words growing in confidence, "then there must be a price."

They laughed. They laughed, and their laughter swept away all of the progress she had made, until she thought she would die before the terrible laughter ended. Her body curled into a ball, her arm clasped around her legs as she tried to hold herself together, to keep that awful laughter from ripping her to shreds.

Then another voice cut through the laughter, stifling it beneath the anger and authority that rang through the familiar tones.

"Enough!" barked that voice, that voice which wrapped around her like a protective shield. "You _swore_ you would not interfere with her! You _swore_ that you would not meddle with her life as you did mine, as you did Thom's."

Ana opened her eyes, only to squeeze them shut again, for the Lioness blazed with such fierce brilliance that she could not look upon her.

"We have not broken our pact with you," came the Goddess's voice.

"She is in the Between," said Mithros, "neither dead nor alive."

"She has already made her choice," said another voice, and Ana recognized George Cooper's light baritone. "Leave her be."

"We accept that choice," the Goddess said, her terrible voice a symphony of wild things great and small.

"We offer another choice," Mirthros added, "We offer the chance to be healed, to walk through her world again without pain."

"And at what price to her?" Alanna cried, anger making her voice sharper than any sword. "There can be no more gifts between the Divine Realms and the Mortal plane! What sacrifice would each of you ask of her?"

"A small thing," Mithros replied.

"So very small," said the Goddess.

"_What?_" Alanna demanded, with a tone that commanded an answer. "Tell her!"

"Her Gift," the Goddess replied, just as Mithros said, "Her son."

Ana opened her eyes, looking up at the two shining figures before her. Somehow she found her voice, found the will to speak the word that came to her lips.

"Why?" she asked, bewildered.

"Fools!" George Cooper cried, "Gods and fools, both! You have had your answer—why do you insist on dragging on this charade?"

"She has the power to tip the scales," the Gods replied, in tandem.

"I don't understand," Ana cried, with all the confidence she could muster. "I will make no choice unless you explain."

But it was George Cooper who answered, his voice more sneering than she had ever heard it. "Long ago a God name Kyprioth posed a question to these two," he said, "He is a Trickster by nature, and sought to distract his more powerful brother and sister by asking them to prove which one of them had more power to affect the Mortal Realms."

"We were curious," Mithros interjected.

"It was a good question," the Goddess added.

"To prove which of them was more powerful," George Cooper continued, "they picked a mortal woman—Alianne of Trebond, as fate would have it—to be their test subject. She had recently become pregnant, so in order to determine which of them was more powerful, they each cast a spell on her unborn child. The Goddess blessed the child, saying that it would succeed in every venture and one day save the very Mortal Realm from destruction. Mithros, on the other hand, cursed the child, saying that it would fail in every venture and bring about the end of the world. What neither of them expected, however, was that not one child was born to Alianne of Trebond, but two. One was called Alanna, the other Thom."

Ana turned to look at the Lioness, her eyes wide.

"Yes," Alanna murmured. "Your father was cursed as I was blessed, but their wager came to nothing, for our lives played out in such a way that neither of them was ever proven to be any more or less powerful than the other. Both the blessing and the curse came to pass, and so a stalemate was reached."

"The stalemate may yet be broken," Mithros murmured. "She has the power to choose her destiny, to choose the destiny of the Mortal Realm and thus prove which of us is the greater."

Ana forced herself upright, stumbling beneath the awful power that radiated from the Gods before her. Then two strong arms grasped her shoulders on either side and suddenly the strain was gone, lifted away by the touch of the Lioness and the Rogue. She lifted her chin and looked first at the Goddess, with her eyes as green as emeralds, then at Mithros, whose eyes were blacker than the blackest night.

"My life," she said, her words full of disgust, "My father's life…Alanna's life..._all_ that we have been through_, all_ that we have endured was _because of a bet between Gods?_"

Ana felt the Lioness's hand tighten on her shoulder. "It will be over soon," the Lioness murmured. "There will be no more interference between the Realms."

"They do not understand, Ana," George Cooper said quietly. "They have never been mortal; they do not know what it is to love or to die."

Ana stepped away from them, stepped away from the protection of their touch. But she did not bend beneath the awesome power that beat at her as she had before. Instead she walked directly up to the place where the Goddess and Mithros waited, waited for her to make her choice. She stepped between them, looking first at one, then the other, her eyes cold and her fists clenched.

Finally, she turned back to the place where George Cooper and Alanna the Lioness stood on the gray road, their familiar faces uncharacteristically serious as they watched her.

"Then they have no place interfering with our lives," Ana said, with utter certainty. "I'd rather die than be healed by either of you."

She saw the smile start on the Lioness's face, then she turned and threw herself over the edge of the cliff, threw herself into the waiting arms of the endless abyss, even as she heard the sound of George Cooper's laughter ringing in her ears.

~:~

Awareness returned in increments.

Sound came first, penetrating the darkness that held her with a steady rhythm of muted beeps, long, drawn out whooshes, and the quiet hum of machinery. Harder to make out was the gentle murmuring of voices, voices which dipped and fell in hushed conversation.

"No," said one voice. "You know I can't do that. I need the Court behind me. I can't just ignore their wishes like that! The Empire needs their support, else how are we to keep them all from rebelling? You said yourself that the army is still too fragile, that they are still adjusting to all of the restructuring you've done. We cannot rely on military might to keep the Court in line."

"I still say you should have let me execute the bastards, instead of merely stripping them of their rank," murmured another voice, "The displaced officers are the perfect rallying point for the opposition—we should have eliminated them while the opportunity was ripe!"

"What would you have had me do, Darius?" the first voice hissed, and Ana recognized her sister's voice. "I could not have killed off every person who sided with Marc—I would have had to execute half of the chain of command and a good portion of the nobility! I _had _to grant them clemency, else those who remained would have risen up faster than you can say _coup d'ètat_."

"So what will you do, Marghi?" Darius's voice returned. "Pull the plug on her, like they want? _She is your sister!"_

Ana struggled against the numbing darkness that swamped her senses. She wanted to open her eyes, to move her limbs, but her eyelids were so very heavy, and her body would not respond to her mind's commands. Waves of panic coursed through her system as she realized she was paralyzed.

"The doctors say that it is a miracle she has lasted this long," Marghi murmured, and there were tears in her words. "They say that she should have woken from the coma long before now..."

_I am awake! _Ana screamed silently, but no words fell from her lips and no movement revealed her.

"She still might!" Darius exclaimed. "How can you give up hope so easily?"

"Do you think I _want_ to make this choice?" Marghi cried, "God, Darius, I already feel like a murderer! If it hadn't been for me, then she wouldn't be lying there on life support!" Marghi's voice rose and cracked on the final word, and Ana heard the sound of broken sobs as her sister dissolved into tears.

_Morphine. _Ana realized. _They must have me on morphine. _

"It is your decision to make," Darius's voice was hard. "But know that I will not have her blood on my hands. If you do this, then you can find someone else to command your armies. I resign my post as Commander-in-Chief."

Marghi gasped, obviously so startled that she stopped crying. "You can't do that!" she cried, her voice hoarse. "I need you, Darius!" A sob rent the air, and then Marghi whispered, her voice broken, "I can't do this alone."

"To be Empress is to be alone," Darius said coldly. "Isn't that what Mother always said?"

Marghi's sobs increased for a long moment, as Ana strained with all her might against the stupor that held her body. She thought she felt her fingertips twitch briefly, but then she was distracted as Marghi cried out, "What would you have me do, Darius? _What would you have me do?_"

"Don't you think it is a bit late to be asking _my_ opinion?" Darius snapped. "I have given you what advice I could, and you have failed to follow my suggestions at every turn."

"Everything is falling apart at the seams," Marghi sobbed, "_I _should be the one lying there on that bed."

"But you are not," came Darius's harsh reply. "God _dammit_, Marghi, _pull yourself together! _You will never be able to reunite the Empire if you keep falling into hysterics whenever things get rough."

"I can't do it," Marghi whispered. "I can't lead this country by myself."

Then Darius's voice changed, his tone soft and gentle as he said, "Then come away, Marghi. Let us take Ana away from this failing Empire. We can start over again in a different land, with different names and different faces if need be."

There was a lengthy pause. Ana's eyelids fluttered as she fought against the drugs that pumped through her veins, seeking to draw her back down into the empty darkness.

"No." Marghi's reply was suddenly firm, filled with the strength of an Empress once again. "The Empire must not fail. I must placate the Court, must give them what they ask, though it tears my heart to do so."

"Then this is where we part ways, dear sister," Darius said, his voice tired. "I will not stand by and watch while you kill her."

"Stop it." Marghi commanded. "I will not tolerate you saying such things to _me_."

"You will not have to tolerate it for much longer." There was a pause, then Darius said, "Would you do me the favor of allowing me some time alone with her, before you call the doctors? I would like to say goodbye to my sister."

"I will give you an hour to say your goodbyes," Marghi said quietly, all traces of sadness gone from her voice. "Then I want you gone from this City, Darius. You have made too many enemies recently to be safe here anymore and I would hate to have your death on my conscious as well."

"May I have your permission to take a few sentimental items with me into exile?" Darius asked, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.

"Take whatever you want," Marghi snapped, "Just make sure you are gone before sunrise."

"As the Empress commands," Darius murmured.

Ana heard the sound of heels clicking, then a door slammed with angry force. She willed herself to stay conscious, to stay out of those murky waters which wanted to pull her down, down into darkness.

"Ana."

She heard Darius's voice close beside her ear, and then she felt warmth spread over her fingertips as he took her cold hand in his.

"Ana," Darius murmured, his words tender with hope, "Can you hear me, Ana? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me..."

Ana focused all of her energy on the place where their hands met, her mind screaming, _Yes! Yes, I can hear you,_ even as she felt her fingers press against Darius's palm.

She could _hear_ the grin in Darius's voice when he whispered, "I _knew_ I saw your eyelids flutter…but we don't have much time and there is much to do. I need to know, do you think you can breathe on your own? Two squeezes for yes, one for no."

Ana considered for a moment. She could feel the way the respirator was pumping her lungs in and out, but she had no idea if she could maintain that rhythm on her own. The morphine had numbed her so much that she barely feel _anything_.

Well there was only one way to know, she decided. She concentrated, her hand squeezing Darius's twice in slow succession.

"I'm going to take out the respirator," Darius said, his voice strained with worry.

For too long a moment, Ana was sure that she would suffocate. She felt something hard and smooth moving upward through her esophagus, choking off her airway and triggering her gag reflex. Then it was gone, and her lungs were empty, so empty…and she could not fill them…

Stars flickered behind her eyelids growing brighter and brighter.

"Breathe, Ana!" Darius hissed. "Breathe, damn you!"

She felt her lungs expand in a whooshing gasp, the sweet air hitting her system like a rush of adrenaline.

Then the pain struck, lancing through her abdomen with all the force of a lightning strike. Once again, stars exploded in her vision, until the darkness overcame her once more.

~:~

The next time Ana woke, it was into a world of awful, painful jolts.

She groaned as the pain washed over her in splintering shards that radiated from her midriff, ripping through her, tearing her to shreds. There was something heavy lying over her and soft cushions beneath her, but neither could shield her from the pain that quivered through her with every miniscule bounce and lurch.

Then the bouncing slowed and ceased altogether. Tears of relief seeped from the corners of her eyes as the pain receded to a throbbing ache. Then the heavy covering was lifted away and felt a cool breeze caressing her cheeks.

Ana opened her eyes, but snapped them shut again instantly, moaning at the painful brightness.

"Ana?" She heard Darius say. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," she tried to reply, but her tongue was heavy and her lips numb, so the word emerged as a mushy slur instead of the clear response she had intended.

"Forgive me, my love," Darius murmured, "but we have to move you. I will try to be as gentle as possible."

She felt strong arms cradling her body, then the pain rent her in two, searing through her with its unbearable agony.

She screamed, screamed until the darkness swallowed her voice and she drifted away again.

~:~

When Ana next opened her eyes she found herself staring up at cracks in a plaster ceiling, as a flickering light played across the fractured plane.

For a long time she simply watched the yellow light dance, her mind blank and her body blessedly numb. Then memory intruded upon her peaceful reverie, memory which haunted her with its terrible revelations.

She turned her head, absurdly satisfied to find that she could do so without igniting the fire that waited, poised to burn its way through her.

She was in a small, bare room, which could have been anywhere or nowhere. The furnishings were sparse, consisting of only a pair of beds and a little table on which an oil lantern was set, the source of the flickering light which had so entranced her.

There was a little chair to match the table, as well as a motley heap of something which looked suspiciously like saddlebags stashed on one corner. There were no windows, and only a single door, though where it led to she could only imagine.

Ana braced herself, then slowly began to lever herself upward. Pain seared through her belly, making her head spin and sweat break out across her forehead, but she gritted her teeth against it and heaved herself into a sitting position. Her arms trembled and against her will a moan broke from her lips as the pain throbbed through her in simmering waves, but then with a final burst of effort she reached out a hand behind her to thrust the pillows into a better position, before sliding backward to rest against the headboard.

Pain made spots swim in her vision and tears well in her eyes as she rested, panting.

Yet she could not help the fierce grin that split her lips at her success, despite the pain that still twinged through her tender stomach.

She was just beginning to wonder if she dared trying to stand up, when the little door opened and Darius entered, bringing with him the mouthwatering aroma of cooked meat and freshly baked bread, which wafted from the tray he held in his hands. Ana's stomach woke with a roar, and she realized that she was thoroughly famished_. _

"You are awake!" Darius cried, setting the tray down on the little table before he rushed forward to kneel by her bedside. "How are you feeling?" He asked, taking her hand in his.

"Actually," Ana replied, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto her face. "I feel rather like somebody shoved a sword through my belly."

Darius laughed quietly, though tears shone in his eyes. "I don't know how many times I was certain you were going to die on me, little one," he whispered. "I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see you smiling and joking again." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead and brush away a stray lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

Ana's hand tightened in his, and she blinked away tears as she asked the question that had been that had been nagging at her ever since her memory had returned to her.

"Why?" Ana asked, knowing Darius would understand what she asked. "I don't understand why."

Darius wagged a finger at her, though he did not meet her gaze as he said, "Food first, questions later."

Ana sighed as Darius rose and went to fetch the tray he had brought. She knew it was pointless to argue, and she _was_ hungry.

She was too weak to hold the spoon, so Darius fed her; patiently spooning the savory broth into her mouth with one hand while he munched on his own meal with the other. For some time they sat thus, eating in companionable silence, but as her hunger receded Ana's frustration grew, for it was obvious that Darius was avoiding her expectant gaze.

Finally Darius finished his own meal and set the tray aside, returning with the chair to sit beside her bed.

"Well?" Ana whispered.

Sadness crept into Darius's eyes, but he did not look away from her as took one of her hands in both of his. "You were not around to see the ways Marghi changed after you left," he began, hesitantly. "Even before Marcus came to twist her mind she was changing, hardening into a different person than the one you knew and loved. She was always a Courtier first and a politician second, more concerned with her own popularity than her prowess at governing." He sighed, and Ana saw the awful truth in his eyes before the words even left his mouth. "It was her undoing in the end."

"How?" Ana whispered. "What happened?"

Darius dropping his gaze to where his hands held hers. "After you killed Marc, the country was fractured. It soon became clear that nearly half of the Court had owed their allegiance to him and not Marghi as we had thought. Some of them called for her to abdicate—claiming she was unfit to rule—threatening that they would secede from the Empire unless she agreed to their terms. Unfortunately for us not a few of them were very powerful and very secure in that power.

"The other half of the Court was torn between standing behind their Empress and siding with whomever was most likely to preserve and promote their own interests. There was only one thing they were all united in, one place where they agreed…"

"That I must die." Ana broke in flatly.

Darius sighed. "Yes," he murmured. "The conservatives argued that Marghi had intervened with the will of God by trying to save your life. They were very persuasive, claiming that Thesis had judged both you and Marc guilty, and that He would frown upon the Empire, would curse all the people unless she took you off the life support that was keeping you alive while you recovered from surgery."

"They were wrong." Ana said, bitterly. "There will be no more divine interference. Our future is our own now, and we must learn to live with the consequences of our actions."

Darius raised an eyebrow. "You sound so certain," he said, amusement in his tone.

Ana met his gaze with a steady eye. "If you had seen what I have seen," she said quietly, "then you would understand."

Her brother drew back, a frown crossing his face as he observed her. But Ana could not bring herself to answer the questions that she could see in Darius's eyes; it was too soon. She needed time to think about what she had learned, to come to terms with what it meant about her life and the lives of everyone else who lived in this world.

So instead she prompted him to continue, saying, "So you kidnapped me…"

"Yes," Darius said. "I had to get you out of the City, to a place where you would be safe so that you could heal."

"Where are we?" Ana asked.

Darius smiled, "Among friends," he replied simply. "Here you can rest and recover without worry."

Ana felt tears swimming in her eyes as she looked at her brother.

"I want to go home," she whispered.

Darius held her watery gaze for a long moment, then slowly shook his head. "There is no home to return to, Ana," he said, his voice full of weary sadness, "The Empire is no more. The same night that I took you away the Court rebelled. Marghi is dead, and Thaylia is broken—fractured by civil war."

The tears that welled in her eyes overflowed, and a sob broke from her lips as Darius spoke aloud the truth that had been so visible in his eyes. She did not care that her cries woke again that horrible pain within her gut, for the pain in her heart was far more terrible.

She cried until she could cry no more, weeping away the loss of her sister, her mother, her childhood home. Darius held her as she bawled, his own tears falling onto her hair as he stroked her back in wordless sympathy. But though she knew the grief would be long in passing, the wracking sobs finally subsided and she grew quiet once more, her fragile body exhausted by the exertion.

"Darius," Ana murmured sleepily into her brother's shoulder.

"Yes?" he replied, his hand still making comforting circles along her spine.

"Home is Tortall," she sighed, and then sleep took her, took her away into a dreamland where legends walked and magic flowed like water through a fertile land.

~ ~:~ ~


	73. Last Chapter

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Well, my pretties, here it is: the reunion you've all been waiting for! Sorry for the delay in posting, I was having a ridiculously hard time writing. It seems absurd that I, Queen of the Trashy Romance Novel, would have such a problem writing fluff...but so it is. I also kept bursting into tears while I was writing, which makes for slow going, let me tell you. I still can't quite believe that I've gotten to this point, after so long...Violet Fire has been a part of my life for EVER! Thank you for sticking it out with me, it has been one hell of a ride. Anyway, I'm working on the Epilogue right now, and I'll post it as soon as its ready.

Lots 'o love,

~Nessa'fur

~: Violet Fire :~

Last Chapter

Will stood on his balcony, watching over his city as the sun set over the western sea. He leaned against the railing, closing his eyes as he felt the brisk kiss of an early autumn wind across his cheeks. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of Tortall, even as he listened to his people going about their business on this fine evening.

He opened his eyes and looked down at Corus. The buildings were lit with the light of the setting sun, painting them in dusky tones. Some might have called it a beautiful sight, but to him the brilliant lighting only served to highlight how dark the shadows were; even as he watched they seemed to grow and lengthen as the sun retreated from the sky.

A horse and its rider crested the final hill on the road before the city, rushing to make it through the gates before they closed at sunset. Will watched as they rapidly approached the outer wall of Corus. It was too far to hear the beating of the horse's hooves, but, judging by the dust cloud it was churning up, it was certainly pushing itself to the breaking point.

The rider disappeared behind the veiling screen of the city's outer wall, even as the sun's light died across the sea. Lights winked into windows as twilight fell over the city. He couldn't see the gates from his tower; he wondered if the rider had made it before they closed for the night.

He turned away from the balcony, his feet taking him automatically on a familiar route. Another day had gone, another night begun.

Night was the best time and the worst time.

During the day, while he went about his life, he longed for the night, when he could lay his head on his pillow and dream of her. It was a game of roulette that he played every night, for though many of his dreams showed quiet, peaceful scenes, many more were not the happiest of dreams. Nightmares, more like, and when he woke in the morning, drenched with sweat, he cursed the Gods for sending him such terrible visions.

The nightmares always stayed with him throughout the next day, darkening his face and souring his words. Then he wished that the dreams would leave him alone, for he did not think he could bear it if he had to see Ana kneeling in a pool of her own blood, a sword sticking out of her stomach as she collapsed once more.

But by the end of the day he just wanted to see her face again, whether it be smiling and laughing or blood spattered and dying.

Will sighed as he wandered into his sitting room, his mind roving over the events of the past few months.

It had been a busy spring and an even busier summer, the days filled with the rebuilding of Tortall. They had lost so much in the battle with Scanra; so much that could never be replaced. Out of the army of nearly five thousand men which had ridden to war, little more than three thousand had returned to their homes. Entire households found themselves without sons, without brothers, and fathers. Many a business had collapsed in the wake of the war, their workforce decimated or their owner killed in the fighting. Many, too, returned wounded, their bodies or minds shattered by the fighting they had seen.

But they were coping.

Incredibly, the strength and solidarity that had brought the people of Tortall together for battle endured in the aftermath. In some ways, Tortall was more united _now_ than ever before. Old prejudices were set aside as everyone—of every rank and race and political persuasion—came together to help everyone else, for all had been affected by the war. New businesses opened their doors to replace the old, farmers worked side by side with nobles to harvest the crops that had been sewn, and families and fiefs pooled their resources to help support those who had lost the most.

The women of Tortall rose to the occasion with particular pride, working along side their men folk in jobs and roles that had traditionally been fulfilled by men with great success. Though it was true that some resented the women for their boldness, most accepted the changes with gratitude and respect. But such objections were to be expected, for Tortall was in the midst of a great transition. And though he kept his opinions to himself, secretly Will thought that the alterations would usher in an era of nearly unprecedented prosperity, once they got their feet under them again.

Will's musing was suddenly derailed, and he paused in his pacing as his gaze fell on Naethus, lying so innocently against a seldom used chair. He had put it away a thousand times, stashing it in the deepest depths of his closet, but he always ended up digging it right back out again, despite the fact that the sight of the sword never failed to fill his gut with sharp, twisting pain—as if it were being driven into his abdomen and not just his visual cortex.

He strode over to where his mother's sword leaned, reaching down slowly to grasp the crystal handle that had once felt her touch.

A bolt of electric energy passed through his fingers. Will yelped, knocking over the sword as he pulled his fingers away sharply. The crystal sword hit the floor and rocketed out of its protective sheath, spinning on the smooth tile until it came to rest, its curved blade pointed at the door of his suite.

Will frowned at Naethus, his brow furrowed. _He has never reacted so to my touch, _Will thought.

Now he _really _wanted to stash it in the closet again, but he was uncertain if the sword would allow him to sheath it. _I can't just leave an unsheathed sword in the middle of my sitting room. Somebody—me most likely—will be bound to trip over it. _

Then he froze, his face darkening as he heard an urgent knock on his door. "I told them to leave me alone tonight," Will growled, striding to the portal and throwing it open violently.

For a moment, he looked into the same violet eyes that he saw in his dreams, their crystalline depths revealing surprise, fear, and anxious uncertainty.

Then the heavy door rebounded against the wall and struck him in the back of his head.

The world went black.

~:~

Ana stood frozen in front of Will's door, her left fist raised and her heart in her throat. In her right hand, she clutched a small satchel that bulged with its contents, holding the bag before her like a shield that would protect her.

She hesitated, unable to take the final step on the journey that had brought her here. She was sweaty and weary, her hair snarled and her clothes stained and dirty from the long, grueling ride and the even longer sailing that had preceded it.

Ana wondered if it wouldn't be better to find Lara and have a bath before she did this. She had come here, to Will's doorstep, automatically, leaving her borrowed horse to the grooms who had stared at her as if she were a ghost…or perhaps a goddess, returned to them once again when they thought the Gods had gone forever. Ana had avoided their gazes, uncomfortable with the reverence and awe she saw reflected there. After that she had wrapped a scarf over her hair and face to disguise herself, though she knew it was only a matter of time before the stable-hands and the gate-keepers who had let her into Corus spread the rumor that the Champion had returned.

She had rushed through the palace, making her way quickly and as unobtrusively as possible to the little hallway that led to the entryway of Will's suite. The Own's men who stood guard had watched her pass silently, making no move to stop her as she strode confidently past them.

But now that she was actually here, her certainty had crumbled and shattered. She had come here without thought, without hesitation, but now her body was paralyzed by the doubt that plagued her.

She knew, by the fact that the Own had not detained her, that he had not banished her, or put a price on her head for her treason and insubordination. She knew that he would have to accept her offering; that he would have to let her name her reward as he had pledged he would. She knew that he would fulfill his obligation as King and acknowledge her service to Tortall as Champion…but it was a small comfort.

Because she did not want the King of Tortall to accept her allegiance. She wanted Will to accept her love.

And so she paused, trembling with fear that Will would not forgive her betrayal.

She did not think she could bear it if he could not be hers as she was already his.

She wanted to delay the moment…to find reassurance in hot bath water, or the warm comfort of Lara's surprised laughter, or the silent astonishment as Lucas realized that she had returned to Tortall. After all, she had absolutely no idea what had been going on in Tortall since she'd defected those many moths ago. Perhaps it would be better to seek out Illieno, or Karma…or anyone else before she did this.

And on top of everything else, Ana did not want Will to see her in her current state: dirty and bedraggled. She wanted him to see her at her very best, with her hair clean and brushed, her clothes neat and tidy and unstained. For the first time in her life, she wished that she were truly beautiful, not just exotically colored.

She let out a breath she hadn't even been aware of holding, and lowered her clenched fist.

A muffled shout came through the heavy wood of the door, startling her.

Her hand seemed to move of its own accord, reaching out toward the door as her knuckles rapped firmly against the dark wood.

Ana froze again, not quite believing that she had actually knocked on his door when she'd had every intention of running away…

_Perhaps I still have time to run—_she started thinking, but then all thought was driven from her mind as the door in front of her was wrenched violently open.

Ana stared up into Will's glowering face, quailing beneath the anger she saw in his sapphire gaze.

Then the anger flickered and died as Will skidded to a stop in to doorway. He loomed over her, his beautiful eyes widening in surprise. She felt caught, captured by the power of that blue gaze.

And then the door rebounded against the inner wall and came crashing back against Will's head.

The momentum threw him forward into Ana, knocking them both to the hard floor of the little entryway. Thunder jabbed painfully into Ana's lower back, and the satchel was knocked from her right hand. It rolled and bounced across the small space, coming to rest against the wall. The breath left her lungs all at once as Will's dead weight crashed into her, sending shards of throbbing fire through the still-tender wound across her belly, and stars exploded in her vision as her head connected with the smooth flagstones of the floor.

Ana blinked furiously, but tears were swimming in her eyes and she couldn't take a breath…

Her lungs screamed for air even as her aching arms screamed and protested as she heaved Will's heavy weight from her chest and slid out from underneath him.

Her lungs expanded in a great gasp, and Ana felt the air hit her lungs like her first breath. She coughed even as she panted, her weight resting on her palms as she just sat for a moment, breathing.

Will lay face-down on the floor, his black curls spilling over the flagstones, his face turned away from her.

Panic flooded into her system as she realized he wasn't moving.

She felt the tingling fire of her Gift pulsing through her veins, even as her heart pounded in her ears. It exploded away from her, as she slid her aching body next to his.

Ana placed her hands upon his head, shifting until she could cradle it comfortably in her lap. She could feel her Gift moving between them, but she did not direct it. She could only stare at him, stare at his face.

He looked very different from her last memories of him. His hair had grown out considerably, until it hung around his head in a wild tangle of blue-black curls that were occasionally shot through with silvery tendrils that had not been there before. His face was also sharper, his cheeks hollowed. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes, and his face was drawn—as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep in months. His frown was exactly the same, however, despite being half-hidden beneath the beard that had grown out beneath it. He looked older; older, grimmer, but serene as well. His face was the face of experience, of solemn acceptance and hard-earned wisdom.

Ana felt tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at him. She felt a great swell of emotion rise through her breast as a quiet sob broke from her lips. He had always, _always, _been there when she needed him. When she was dying in the Thaylian outpost he had come to save her, to teach her about the heritage she'd never dreamed she had. When she was uncertain with her position as a captive among an alien people he had treated her with only deference, and introduced her to Lucas and Tohmas, who had befriended her and introduced her to Tortall's beautiful history. When she had been betrayed by Marc it had been he who saved her, and it had been he who had given her the weapons she would need to prevail in every challenge that had faced her. Ana knew that she would never have been able to do the things she had done if Will had not given her Firedance, or had not encouraged her training in both the Gift and the martial arts. He had come to her aid when the power had come over her as she stood against Li Dubyn in the valley before the Gateway to the North. And it had been he who had given her the strength to strike down Marcus, when she had though all her strength was gone.

_It is so _stupid, Ana thought, _that after everything that we have been through, a bloody _door _should be the thing that over-comes him. It's a good thing I was here to heal him with my Gift. _The thought made her tremble, made her quake at what might have been, had she made a different choice…

Will's eyes blinked slowly open, and that sapphire gaze focused on her once again. He stared up at her calmly, his face serene as he rested his head on her lap.

Ana felt an ironic smile pulling at lips, and a laugh bubbled up between her quiet sobs. She laughed, even as the tears streamed down her face.

This was not definitely how she had imagined their reunion.

~:~

He was dreaming.

It was not unusual for him to know he was dreaming, even as he dreamt. Some nights, he wished never to wake from his dreams. On others, he wanted only to wake, to escape the terrible nightmares that he could not stop or change. Then he would wake, screaming and clawing at his sheets as he failed to banish the dreadful images from his mind.

This dream was different, however.

Usually, when he was having a good dream Ana wasn't nearly so dirty. Tears made streaks down her cheeks, cutting through the dust and grime that caked on her face. Her eyebrows were drawn together in an anxious frown, and her lips parted as she sobbed.

But he could have cared less about what she looked like, for this dream was definitely worth whatever end it might have. Ana's tears glittered prettily in the moonlight room as she looked down at him, her hair tucked behind her ears. Looking into those endless violet eyes, into that gaze which arrested him with the depth of emotion he saw there—that was worth more than a thousand nights of pain and torment.

_I wish she wasn't crying, _Will thought. _Tears at the beginning cannot portend a happy end to this dream. _

And then her face was transformed, as a slow smile spread across her mouth. Her eyes twinkled merrily as a bubble of laughter drifted from her lips.

Will inhaled a ragged breath, transfixed by the moment. He could feel the hard floor on which his body lay and the soft, warm lap on which his head reclined. He could feel her hands on his face, one cupping his cheek and the other resting in the tangle of his hair. He could feel the vibrations rippling through Ana's body as she laughed, smell the heavy odor of dirt and sweat and horseflesh, hear the quiet ring of her twinkling laugh.

Then she bit her lower lip, stifling the giggle, but unable to suppress the impish grin that turned the corners of her mouth up. Her eyes were too beautiful, too intense—as they smiled into his own.

_I could die right now, _Will thought. _I could die right now and be content. _

A single tear fell from the tip of Ana's nose. He watched it fall through the space between them and land on his cheek, joining the others which already resided there.

And then he blinked, as his mind finally caught up to his perceptions.

It was no dream.

"Ana," he breathed. Instantly he was sitting up, his knees pressed alongside hers as he reached up to touch her face. His fingers glided over the wet tracks that cut through the gritty grime that stained her cheeks. "You are really here? I am not dreaming?"

"You dream of me?" she whispered, and he felt the soft caress of her breath roll across his face.

He looked into her eyes, her eyes which shone so fiercely just inches from his own.

"Every night." He said simply, his voice barely louder than hers.

For a moment they were frozen, their eyes locked.

Then Ana leaned forward and kissed him, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled his face to hers.

The taste of her lips was sweeter than any dream he'd ever had.

~:~

Ana trembled, clinging to Will as his kiss swept through her, igniting a fire in her belly which had nothing to do with her lingering wound. Her world narrowed to the place where their lips played soft, slow harmonies that rose into sweeping crescendos and sweet trills until she was dizzy, overcome with the glorious pleasure of their silent duet.

Then the soaring bliss was shattered by a sound that intruded from outside her world: a heavy, rhythmic pounding.

Ana frowned as she felt Will's lips pull away from her own. She opened her eyes and felt a pout start on her face as she realized he wasn't even _looking_ at her, then her gaze followed his and the indignation evaporated.

She'd looked over just in time to witness two of the Honor Guards stumbling to a halt in the passageway that led to Will's rooms. Even in the torchlight Ana could clearly see how red their faces were, though their embarrassment was also spoken of in their hunched shoulders, shifting feet, and the fact that they were vainly trying to look everywhere but at the place where she and Will knelt.

Oddly, she felt no blush staining her own cheeks as she slowly unclasped her hands from around Will's neck and arranged them on her lap. She looked straight into the men's faces, her gaze expectant and not at all ashamed. They avoided her eyes, choosing instead to study at the floor with an intensity that would have made any tutor proud.

Will cleared his throat. "What can we do for you, gentlemen?" Will asked politely enough, though they all heard the undercurrent of annoyance in his tone.

One of the guards looked pointedly at the other, who coughed, shifted his weight and stuttered, "There was a commotion, Ma—Majesty…We thought—" he winced as the first guard kicked him, then said, "I…I thought we should check it out...make sure you was ok…" he trailed off, uncertainly.

"I am quite well, as you can see," Will said, and there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice. "I _did_ have a minor disagreement with the door, but luckily Ana was here to heal my bruises."

"Alas," Ana added, with a dramatic sigh, "I could not salvage his dignity." She glanced at Will, and grinned impishly as he pretended to glower at her. But his frown could not conceal the merry sparkle in his eyes.

She looked back at the Honor Guard, to find their faces twisted comically as they sought not to laugh.

It was too much; she giggled helplessly, her laughter only fueled by the shocked visages of the guards.

She felt Will's hand take one of her own, his fingers toying with her left hand as he spoke over the sounds of her laughter, "If that is all, then please excuse us; I have some important business to discuss with my Champion."

The two guards nodded sharply, turning to leave, only to freeze as Will added, "And gentlemen…"

They turned back, their faces anxious.

"Would you see to it that no one else disturbs me tonight?"

The guards bowed, fumbling in their haste to depart. As they trotted down the hall, Ana heard one hiss to the other, "I _told_ you not to disturb them!"

The quiet words brought on another attack of the giggles. Ana looked at Will, and found him smiling broadly at her. The sight of him grinning so happily made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"Well, I'm convinced." Will announced, with laughter in his eyes, "I _must_ be awake. I would never dream of such absurdity."

"Stop it!" Ana cried, between giggles, "Or…I'll never," more giggles. "…stop laughing…"

Will reached up, his hand stroking along her cheek as he smiled. "I wish you would never stop," he murmured. "I wish to always be able to hear your laughter in my ears."

Ana's laughter quieted as he spoke, to be replaced by the ferocious thumping of her heart. Will's fingers glided along her chin, his eyes focused on her mouth. He leaned forward slowly, closing the distance between them with leisurely progress.

She closed her eyes, trembling with anticipation.

"I love you, Ana," Will whispered, his lips brushing against hers. "I've loved you from the first moment I saw you."

Ana inhaled a shuddering breath, tears trickling down her cheeks as she breathed in Will's sweet words.

She opened her eyes, her vision made blurry by the tears which welled and overflowed. Her hands shook as she reached blindly toward him, to find reassurance in the solid bulk of his body, reassurance that he was real, that she had not dreamed the words she'd heard him speak.

A sob broke from her lips as she felt his arms close around her, pulling her onto his warm lap as he held her. Her head found the familiar place on his shoulder, her fingers clutching the fabric of his tunic as he rocked her gently as he had before, his hand stroking her hair as he waited patiently for the storm of tears to pass.

"It was always you, Will" Ana whispered, "_Always_." For a moment, tears overcame her again, then she managed to choke out, "I was so stupid…so blind…I'm so sorry…"

"Don't," Will said, and she felt the rumbling of his voice against her side. "Don't say that. _I_ should be the one apologizing—for being so stubborn, so proud…" He sighed, and when he spoke again there was a tremor in his voice, "I was so afraid of losing you that I could not see, could not hear the truth when you spoke it—"

"Hush," Ana murmured, reaching up to still his words with a soft touch. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm home now."

"Home…" Will echoed, his voice rough. Ana felt something wet hit her cheek, and she looked up at him to find tears streaming down his face.

The sight of his tears was so heart-breakingly beautiful that it took her breath away. For a moment she hesitated, overwhelmed by the emotion which welled within her, then she sat up, her hands moving across his cheeks to wipe away the tears which fell.

"I thought you were never coming back," Will said brokenly, his eyes shining, "When Illieno returned without you…I thought I'd lost you forever."

Ana lowered her eyes, unable to face the pain that haunted Will's sapphire gaze.

"I—" she stuttered, "I had to—there was…"

It was Will's turn to hush her, cutting off her stumbling explanation with a finger across her lips. "Shhh," he murmured. "You were right, as always. It doesn't matter now."

"No!" Ana protested, "It _does_ matter—"

But he gave her no chance to explain, for before she had a chance to get the words out he was kissing her, kissing her with such fervent intensity that she completely forgot what it was she had to say. All thought was driven from her mind, swept away by the burning passion which threatened to consume her with its fire. Her body reacted without direction; one hand curled around his neck while the other explored the hard contours of his back, even as she felt one of his hands moving down along the curve of her hip.

The world spun dizzily when he finally lifted his head away from hers, and she was glad of his strong arm which cradled her against him, for she didn't think she could hold herself up on her own.

"What were you saying?" Will said, and she was amazed to find that he sounded as breathless as she felt.

"Not fair!"Ana gasped, "I can't remember…"

She felt the chuckle vibrating in his chest even before it broke from his lips. He laughed softly, his eyes twinkling wickedly as he grinned down at her—obviously completely unrepentant. She tried to scowl at him, but the corners of her mouth kept moving in the wrong direction.

A distant sound brought them both back to their senses and their surroundings.

Will turned his head, peering down the long hallway for a moment before looking back at her. "Perhaps we should relocate to a more private location," he said, grinning. "I think the guards have had enough of a show tonight."

Ana gasped, tumbling out of Will's arms as she struggled upright. The little entryway where they stood dipped crazily for a moment, and she stumbled, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her, but then she felt Will's arm around her waist again, and the world settled around her once more.

She whirled around, looking down the hallway to where several men were just pulling their heads back behind the veiling wall. It was too great a distance to see their expressions clearly, but she would have sworn that they were smirking, one and all.

Ana turned back to Will, her eyes wide.

He laughed, throwing back his head in merriment. She felt an answering smile pulling at her lips as she watched him laugh, and tears sprung into her eyes again as a great rush of happiness washed over her.

She did not want to leave his embrace, but he seemed content to stay where they were forever and she could not forget the men who watched just down the hall, so she pulled out of the circle of his arms and stalked off toward his rooms.

Will followed behind her, still chuckling, only to stop just shy of the open doorway, frowning at the floor.

"What is this?" Will asked, bending down to pick up the little round satchel she'd dropped.

Ana felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as he looked at her inquisitively, holding up the bag. She reached out to grasp his free hand, pulling him through the doorway and shutting it behind him before she turned back to him.

"I thought you might not forgive me," she mumbled, dropping her eyes. "I did not think I could bear it if you didn't accept my return…so I brought that,.." she looked up at him again, peering at him through her lashes. "You _did_ say whoever brought it to you could name their reward."

Will's brow furrowed in confusion. He looked down at the little satchel for a moment, and then opened it.

Ana—who knew what the bag contained—braced herself. The smell that wafted from the bag was unmistakable, pungent and nauseating despite the many spells she had placed upon it. She wrinkled her nose, willing her stomach to _stay put_ as the scent of death drifted through the air.

She knew the instant Will recognized the grizzly contents, for his jaw dropped risibly.

He looked back up at her, his eyes full of astonishment.

"Yes." Ana said, in answer to his silent question. "Marc is dead. That is why I had to return to Thaylia, to kill that murdering bastard, so that I could bring you his head in recompense for my own betrayal."

Will pulled the drawstring of the satchel closed again, choking off the horrible smell. His fist tightened around it for a moment, then the entire thing was consumed by flames, blue flames which burned with a brilliant light until only ash remained. Will's face was hard in the vivid light of the leaping fire, his jaw clenched. But as the flames died his face softened, and when he looked up at her again his eyes burned a thousand times brighter than the light of his Gift.

Ana sighed. "Do you have any idea what Darius went through to steal that from my sister?" she asked, but Will did not seem to hear her. He closed the distance between them with one long stride, his hands reaching for her with grim purpose.

Ana gasped as he wrenched her tunic up, completely unprepared for his sudden assault. "What are you—" she started to say, but her words were cut short by the awful cry which erupted from Will's lips.

"No!" he choked, "It cannot be!"

Will collapsed to his knees, his hands moving over her exposed abdomen, over the vivid, purple scar which marred her skin.

He looked up at her, his eyes bright with tears.

"I saw it," he whispered, his words full of horror, "I dreamed it, but I could not bring myself to believe it…"

Ana knelt as he did, wrapping her arms around him. No words were forthcoming, no comfort could she speak, but she drew his head against her breast as he sagged, cradling him as he had so often cradled her.

"How?" Will murmured hoarsely, lifting his head to search her eyes. "How could you survive such a wound? You should have died…"

Ana dropped her gaze from his. "I did," she whispered.

Will leaned back, putting his hands on her shoulders. "What?" he asked, startled.

Ana looked up, her face serious. "I did die," she said. "I was given a choice and I chose to die."

"I don't understand…" Will shook his head, his face perplexed.

"I made a deal with the Black God," Ana said quietly.

Will frowned. "The Black God does not make deals," he said firmly, "Perhaps you are mistaken…"

"There is no mistake," Ana replied, unable to help the humorless laugh which rose in her throat. "He allowed me to return to this world, but for a very hefty price, indeed."

"What was the price?" Will asked, but Ana shook her head.

"I cannot discuss the terms," she said, her words final. "That was part of our agreement." Tears welled in her eyes again, and she felt once more the terrible guilt churn through her at the thought of what she had done, how she had damned him…how she had damned them all…

"Can you forgive me?" Ana asked him, her eyes pleading, "Can you forgive me not even knowing what I have done to you…to our people?"

Will leaned forward, kissing her softly, his lips gentle as they caressed hers. "There is no need for forgiveness," he murmured. "I trust you with my life…with my soul, and the souls of everyone in Tortall. I am sure you made the right choice."

"Thank you," Ana whispered. He could not know how much that trust meant to her, but she tried to convey it through her kiss, through her soft touch and the words which she sighed against his lips.

"I love you, Will."

How long they stayed like that she did not know; she could have kissed him for hours, for years, and been content in every moment. But finally they broke apart, each smiling shyly at the other.

Will's grin widened, taking on a wicked edge.

"So…"he said, toying with a lock of her hair. "What do you want?"

Ana raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You brought me Marc's head, so I have to let you name your reward," he explained. "What would you like? Diamonds? Jewels? A dozen of Tortall's handsomest swains to carry you around and feed you grapes from a golden platter?"

Ana smiled at his teasing, looking up at him coyly as she replied, "Actually, I had my heart set on marrying the King and living happily ever after."

"Ahh," Will sighed, "I'm afraid that just isn't possible."

He laughed at her shocked look, kissing her nose (which she promptly wrinkled in response). "You can't ask for something that was going to happen anyway," he said teasingly.

"I changed my mind," Ana announced. "Happy endings are overrated anyway."

"Oh?" Will said, quirking an eyebrow, "So what would you like, then?"

Ana gave him a thoughtful look, then reached up to wipe off a smear of dirt that had gotten on his face. "I would really like a bath," she admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

~:~

Will paced, stretching out his legs as he stalked through his rooms. His path was fixed, weaving back and forth between his bedchamber and his library. His body moved through space, but his mind was with Ana, in the little bathroom that adjoined his bedchamber.

He wanted to linger outside that door, to listen for the sounds of her splashing in his bathtub and reassure himself that she was really there, that he had not hallucinated the events that had unfolded…but he was just too nervous.

He needed to move, to let out his restless energy. Yet no matter how hard he walked, he was unable to quell the jittery tension of his limbs.

Will returned to his bedroom time and again, but it was never long before the sight of his big bed drove him away, filled with edgy panic. So he moved to his library, where Natheus and Thunder were getting reacquainted in one of the cushy chairs. There he would pace for awhile, before he was drawn inexorably back towards the place where she was…

Will stumbled to a halt halfway across his bedchamber, his eyes going to where she stood, her hair gleaming wetly in the candlelight as she stood silhouetted in the doorway of his bathroom.

He felt his pulse double in tempo as his gaze roamed over her body, shielded only from his sight by the fluffy, sapphire towel she had wrapped around herself. The rich tone made her clean skin glow with breathtaking luminosity, just as her eyes glowed with an even richer light.

Gods she was beautiful.

"Ana," he sighed, moving automatically toward her, like a moth drawn to bask in a lantern's warm glow. He ran a finger along her jaw, awed by the silky texture of her skin.

She blushed, throwing her beauty into even greater relief as she peered shyly up at him, biting her lip.

"Will," she said urgently, "There is something I should probably tell you…I just remembered when I was in the bath…"

She trailed off, staring up at him, her lips parted like she was awaiting a kiss.

"What is it?" he asked softly, running his thumb over those expectant lips as his other hand tucked her heavy hair behind her ear. His eyes never left hers, those violet eyes which were deep enough for a man to drown in.

Ana blinked, shaking her head briefly before looking up at him again. She took a deep breath, then blurted, "I left my brother about a half-day's ride south of Corus, near the coastal hills. I had to tie him up in his sleep so he wouldn't come after me."

Will's hands froze and he blinked several times in his astonishment. He wasn't sure _what_ he had been expecting her to say, but that was most certainly not it.

He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow as he said, "You tied up your brother?"

Ana shrugged, a sly smile playing about her lips. "Well, first I incapacitated him with my Gift…"

Will couldn't help himself; he laughed, shaking his head.

"I left food and water within his reach!" Ana said, as if he had damned her with his laughter and she needed to justify herself. "I wanted to return to Corus by myself and it was the only way to keep him from following me…"

Another bubble of laughter burst from his lips at the petulance in her voice.

"You don't have to excuse yourself to me, love," Will said. "As much as I would love to meet your brother, I'm glad you came first by yourself."

Ana looked at him for a long moment, then she reached out and tentatively put one of her hands on his chest. "You know," she said, and from the look in her eyes he knew she could feel the way his heart was pounding, seemingly ready to burst from his body. "I put a pretty heavy spell on him…he'll probably sleep right through the night." An impish smile crept across her face and she raised an eyebrow. "And even if he does wake up, he's unlikely to squirm his way out of my knots before sunrise…"

But all thoughts about this new development were driven from Will's mind in that instant, as Ana's free hand finished undoing the knot that had held the towel in place.

~ ~:~ ~


	74. What Happened After

A Note from Nessa'fur:

Um, ok, so yeah. This interlude has been a bit ridiculous. I know. I'm sorry. You all probably thought that Violet Fire was done, over, complete-as-it-will-get-anyway. So did I. I've been trying to write the Goddess-forsaken Epilogue (which, by the way, is how I always refer to it. The Goddess-forsaken Epilogue) for what? Seven? Eight months now? I really want to get it out to you guys-you've stuck with me this long and you totally deserve to know what happens and have all the loose ends tied up and maybe get a little real closure, right? Right. Well here's the thing.

This is not the Epilogue.

It _was_ (a lot of) the Epilogue until George started meddling again and Alanna got all _time to make like a Goddess _on me. And made it really hard to tie up all the loose ends into one, nice shiny Goddess-forsaken Epilogue. So this isn't the Epilogue. I don't know what it is though, because (in my opinion) the story I came to tell ended when Ana and Will finally got off their big, stubborn high-horses and got together. There was a reason I titled the last chapter "The Last Chapter". Because it was. The Last Chapter.

But I STILL don't have the Goddess-forsaken Epilogue done and since yesterday my own personal version of pigs flying past my window happened (by which, in mean, I discovered that Rose Zemyla finally picked up Reconciliation again, which I thought was doomed to the pits of abandoned fanfic hell) and I looked at what I had so far and realized that even without the actual Epilogue bits this would be the single longest chapter of the fic. So this little bit of not-much-really, but lets be honest we all (me included) wanted to know how the heck Darius got down from the tree, is my promise to you all that even if it takes eight more months I will get the Goddess-forsaken Epilogue done. And this story will be a closed loop. Finally.

Love,

~Nessa'fur

What Happened After

~ ~:~ ~

In his dream, Darius awoke to find himself lashed to a tree.

And in the strange and singular way of dreams he did not find this surprising or unusual.

Being tied to a tree wasn't particularly comfortable—all that rough bark chafing at his clothing, not to mention what sounded like several generations worth of flies swarming around his head—but it did give him an excellent view of his surroundings. Somewhere beyond the treetops which hemmed his horizon, the sun was setting; its waning rays filtered through the thinning foliage of autumn. The branches rubbed together in the wind, making mournful music (which he could just hear above the buzzing of the flies); the almost-bare limbs seeming to reach out toward him as the shadows grew longer.

He looked to his left, and found the source of the flies. Beneath the swarming horde a little package of what might have once been bread and cheese was neatly suspended from a nearby branch. It was close enough that he could have nibbled it, if he had been so inclined. Not that he was. Maggots might be a delicacy in the former Thaylian province of Ushbek, but he had never been able to understand the appeal. He preferred food that didn't wriggle.

Darius tested his bindings, but they were tight and craftily knotted. Of course they would be, for in that inexplicable way of dreams he suddenly knew that Ana had tied these knots. Yes, he recognized his own patient (and, when necessary, impatient) teaching in the lay of the coils. The good news was he knew how to undo the knots quite easily—given enough time.

The bad news was he was suspended about twenty feet off of the ground, with nothing beneath his feet but open air. Thus, his main act of Escape Artist Extraordinaire would be shortly followed by an encore of a Very Long Fall—a long fall _headfirst_, as Ana had kindly tied his feet separately. He would be forced to loose his arms and chest first…and then would have to bend over to untie his legs.

It was a conundrum that made him wonder if it wasn't better to just stay tied to the tree. After all, this was a dream; his situation was bound to change with mercurial speed.

And besides, it kept him safely above the giant spiders with human faces which were consuming a dead horse down on the forest floor.

Darius blinked.

_Giant spiders with human faces were consuming a dead horse down on the forest floor. _

Well that was a bit unexpected. Usually his subconscious stuck to more traditional metaphors.

_This might be the strangest dream I've had to date, _Darius thought, always the objective observer. _Maggots and massive spiders…_

Then the wind shifted, and the smell hit him.

It was a smell he recognized from too many years spent walking through the bloody fields of battle. It was the smell of death, of decay—of bodies bloated and rotting in the hot sun and sundered flesh moldering with putrid infection.

He felt the bile rise up in his throat, even as the wind shifted again, blowing the smell away from him.

Unfortunately, away from him meant that he was now downwind of the human-faced monstrosities on the ground. As one they paused in their feast, lifting their horrible faces to the wind. One of them raised its head further, its beady eyes traveling up the trunk of the tree to where Darius was strung up.

_"Of all the weird and horrible creatures I've met in Tortall," _Ana's voice said in his memory,_ "I think that spidrens were the worst. Sure, demons might be impervious to magic…but they are slow and clumsy on the ground. Spidrens, on the other hand, are wicked fast. And what they lack in brains they make up for in sheer viciousness."_

The spidren's mouth dripped bloody streaks of viscera as it bared its teeth in a savage smile.

This was no dream—it was a nightmare. One Darius knew he wasn't likely to wake up from.

The spidren pointed at him, chattering to the others in its alien tongue. Instantly they were all looking at him, flashing five identical grins of gleeful malice.

_Nothing like a having your dessert already trussed up and helpless, _Darius thought grimly, throwing himself against his bonds as two of the spidrens broke off from the others and scuttled towards his tree. _If I get out of this alive I am going to _kill _Ana. _

The first spidren made it to his tree and began climbing up it without out pause, the second one close behind.

Darius felt the bonds around his chest give just a little bit.

It was enough.

He twisted his head and drew out one of his many daggers from the collar of his coat with his teeth, immediately beginning to saw through the top-most cord. He felt the binding part just as he felt the tickle of a long, hairy leg brush against his own.

Darius looked up, into a face smeared with horse blood and filled with carnal glee. He felt the rancid breath of the monster across his cheek as it giggled…

…which promptly became a gargle as Darius snapped his head forward and thrust the dagger between his teeth into the creature's eye. The spidren shrieked as it lost its footing and toppled out of the tree, taking the one beneath it along for the ride.

The others reacted instantly, abandoning his poor horse's corpse and swarming toward his tree, their faces snarling with anger.

Darius twisted and bucked, his muscles screaming as he sought to free his hands and chest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two of them climbing the tree next to his, while two more advanced up his own. The fifth one was writhing on the ground, his dagger still protruding from the gory void of its eye socket.

His right arm sprung free just as one of them sprang at him. Darius watched the creature's flight with a practiced eye, drawing his arm back at just the right moment to be able to punch it squarely in the face as it arced toward him.

The sound of his fist shattering the bones in the monster's face was music to his ears.

He didn't have much time to enjoy it, however, because the next one was already crawling over him as the first fell through space to join its brother convulsing on the ground. He felt the spidren's claw rip into his side, but it didn't stop him from retrieving another of his daggers and slicing off one of its numerous legs. It hissed, but didn't lose its grip on him, so he lopped off its head for good measure.

Darius gagged as the spidren's foul blood sprayed across his face, then the world was spinning horribly as the headless spidren fell, its body tangled in the ropes around his chest. He caught a glimpse of a bloated, hairy body just beneath him, then he found himself staring upward at the spidren advancing from above, his body painfully twisted as the cords around his legs suspended his fall.

His arms and chest were free, but hopelessly tangled in the ropes as the dead spidren's body shuddered in its death throes.

Awful, horrible, bloody death descended upon him from above and below.

Darius closed his eyes and cut through the ropes around his legs. He felt them sever as something—razor sharp claws, no doubt—sliced across his back.

Then he was falling.

The spidren below him screeched as Darius barreled into it, along with the still twitching remnants of its comrade and enough rope to tie a two-hundred pound man to a tree.

When you fall in dreams, you are supposed to wake up before you hit the ground. You aren't supposed to be able to die in your dreams.

But this was no dream, and even with the bodies of two spidrens beneath him Darius hit the ground hard enough to drive all the breath out of his body and fill his vision with darkness punctuated by searingly brilliant stars. But it was a better fate than that of the spidren beneath him, which obligingly went _squish_ as he landed on top of it.

Darius groaned, rolling away from the macabre scene. He blinked rapidly to clear away the stars in his eyes, even as he desperately fought against the ropes still entangled around him. He had to get himself free before the other spidren came out of the tree…

_Too late, _he thought, as the thing barreled into him point-blank—apparently neither strategy nor subtly were its strong suits—bowling him over and sending waves of agony shooting through his battered body. His head felt like there was an entire platoon marching in lockstep inside of it.

Darius lay on his back, his body tense as he waited for the spidren's next attack.

It didn't come.

Pound, pound, pound, stomped the soldiers in his skull.

Darius raised his head tentatively. The last spidren lay still just beyond his reach, a dagger protruding from its forehead.

He let out a long sigh.

_Ana better not be dead, _Darius thought, _because I'm really looking forward to killing her. _

~:~

Emma Townsley pulled her cloak tighter about her as the crisp autumn wind snaked its way around her, sending a brief shiver down her spine as she lounged at the top of Corus's outer wall. It was cold, and likely to get colder as autumn's nippiness ground inevitably into winter's chill, but she didn't really mind. She liked the turn of the seasons and the annual changes they brought to the world around her. After all, the stars always shone brighter in the winter sky.

She looked to the stars now as the smoke from her cigarette drifted lazily upon the breeze. She'd always loved watching the stars emerge in the sky, loved the smooth, almost imperceptible transition from dusky twilight to velvety midnight. She loved the way the sky turned from blue to navy, and from navy to black, while the stars emerged one by one to turn their eternal, shining faces upon the mortals below.

But midnight had long come and passed, yet still she lingered. She couldn't have said why, but she was reluctant to leave her solitary perch on the outer wall. Something told her she should be there, some strangle little instinct that whispered that she should stay.

And when you were a mage, you learned to listen to that little instinct. You had to, or you wouldn't be long for this world.

"Well if it isn't Miss Emma," said a cool voice to her left. "What brings ye to the wall on this chilly eve?"

Emma glanced over at the man who had approached her so silently…not that she hadn't been fully cognizant of his presence. Garrett Barnes might have a mercenary's quiet step, but she'd done far too many jobs with him _not_ to know the instant he came within fifty feet of her.

She shrugged, stubbing out her cigarette. "I got a hunch," she said quietly, "You know how it goes."

Garrett frowned down at her, "Some nefarious deeds, afoot?" he asked, only half-jokingly. "And you ain't in the middle of it? I don't believe it."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him, "You're one to talk," she said, "nary a day goes by that I don't hear your name tied to some new plot to raid a merchant warehouse or smuggle in stolen goods from the Copper Isles."

Garrett Barnes chuckled. "You got me there. But what kind of hired sword would I be if I couldn't maintain my reputation?"

"What brings _you_ out here?" Emma asked. "You're not thinking of taking up stargazing as a hobby, I'm guessing."

A grin split Garrett's wide cheeks. "Nope. I'm on the job tonight. Scouting out the best point of entry for some Carthaki friends of mine. Wouldn't want the guards asking questions about the goods they are bringing with em."

"I sincerely hope you aren't talking about _slaves_," Emma said dryly, "because you know how the King feels about that particular business practice."

"You really think I'm that stupid?" Garrett exclaimed, "Why in the—"

"Shhhhh—" Emma hissed. "Do you hear that?"

They both fell silent, their ears straining and their bodies suddenly tense.

The quiet crunch of footsteps drifted to them on the wind, along with a low muttering.

Emma dragged Garrett down beneath the lip of the wall as a man crept into sight, stealthily making his way along the outside of the wall. His movements were furtive as his gazed passed over the place where they were hidden in the shadows, and his hands passed along the wall as if seeking something along the brick face.

He paused just beyond their hiding place, looking up at the wall like he was judging its worthiness.

Then he said something. Something which was clearly a curse, but was also clearly not Tortallian. The words seemed to hiss from his lips in a tongue completely alien to her ears.

The man put his fingers into the crumbling mortar and started to scale the wall.

"You've got to be kidding me," Garrett muttered, as Emma frantically threw up a sound-proof shield around them both. "What the hell does he think he's doing? Nobody climbs the wall. That's total stupidity."

"What language was that he spoke?" Emma asked, the feeling of unease she'd felt all evening growing with every inch the man gained. "That wasn't Tortallian…"

Garrett shook his head, "it didn't sound like Carthaki," he said uncertainly. "It didn't sound like anything I've ever heard in my life."

They hear a sharp, foreign word as the man's grip faltered. He muttered a sentence under his breath which sounded distinctly threatening despite its incomprehensibility.

"I don't like this," Emma said, slowly. "I don't like this one bit."

"I know a sailor who knows lots of languages," Garrett said, watching the man's slow progress. "He doesn't live too far from here…"

"Get him," Emma growled. "And bring back-up as well. He's obviously not gifted, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Will he hear me if I run?" Garrett asked.

Emma glanced at him contemptuously. "Not unless he's a better mage than I am. Which he isn't."

Garrett took off without another word, sprinting down the steps and through an alleyway.

"Hurry up," Emma muttered.

~:~

Darius felt his muscles trembling as he sought to find the next handhold in the wall. He looked up at the path he'd mapped and wondered if he had enough stamina to make it the rest of the way. The fight with the spidrens and the long walk to the city had taken a lot out of him. He definitely wasn't at the top of his game… and though the bricks were solid enough, hand and footholds were few and far between. Progress was much, much slower than he'd hoped.

Fortunately, his scouting had revealed that there were no patrols around the outer wall of Corus, just the guards posted at the main gate. Which made breaking into the city ridiculously easy. The only reason he'd walked so far along the wall was to be certain that he was well away from any guards…and also so that he was in some kind of shadow. Not that the night was particularly bright, but the stars alone cast enough light to see by on a moonless night. And he really didn't want to be discovered. Not before he found his sister and beat her to a pulp.

Darius inched upward one handhold at a time, slowly and patiently making his way up the wall. He ignored the screaming of his muscles and continued to focus on the delicate operation, not allowing himself to think about the fact that he was once again precariously suspended twenty feet in the air. And this time there would be no conveniently placed spidren bodies to land on.

Finally he was able to reach up and grasp the lip of the wall. He shifted his weight once again and muttered, "Its now or nothing."

He put his other hand out to grasp the ledge, but instead he found it gripped by a pair of very human hands.

Darius froze as he looked up into the grinning face.

Then he was _flying_ over the wall only to land with a tremendous crash as his body landed hard on the top of the stone parapet.

Darius sat up slowly, his eyes taking in the three men who stood around him, their various weapons glinting in the starlight.

But that was not what made him break out into a cold sweat.

It was that ropes were slithering around his hands and feet without a hand to touch them.

His jaw clenched in anger as a blindfold settled over his eyes. "I am going to _kill her._"

~:~

Emma frowned down at their prisoner, a little disappointed he hadn't put up a better fight.

"Where's your sailor friend?" she asked Garrett, only to be answered by the man himself as he trudged toward them. "I'm here, I'm here," he said wearily. "But I don't get what all the fuss is about—why'd you have to get me out of bed, Garrett?"

"Shut up," Emma snapped, "And tell me what he is saying, and in what language."

The sailor's eyes widened as he took in the prisoner at Emma's feet, muttering away to himself.

"I don't believe it," he muttered, "I never thought I'd be hearing Thaylian on these shores."

"Thaylian?" Garrett said, exchanging a glance with Emma. "Why would a Thaylian be here?"

"Spyin'?" Suggested Winny Redhand.

"He keeps sayin, 'I'm gonna kill her,'" the sailor said darkly.

"Assassin," hissed Emma, giving the prisoner a little kick.

"Think we should bring him to the King?" Garrett asked, a sinister grin pulling at his lips.

"That's _exactly _what I was thinking," Emma said, returning the smile. "The Rogue will know what to do with him."

~:~

Illieno had really been hoping to make it an early night, but the paper-monster on his desk was spawning at an alarming rate again, despite his best efforts to keep the piles at a manageable size.

He sighed as he glanced briefly at a report from a contact in the Copper Isles. The current Prime Minister was facilitating illicit human trafficking from Carthak—again. In the past six months the PM had personally granted landing rights to twenty-three vessels carrying young girls and boys to be sold on the black market as slaves or impressed into sex labor. His contact had recently learned that the PM himself kept two boys under the age of twelve as his "personal attendants." Illieno felt a coil of revulsion twist through his gut as he considered the services those boys were rendering. Men like that made him sick!

Sick, but also sad. Sad that some men resorted to purchasing sexual slaves in order to find fulfillment. Sometimes Illieno couldn't help but wonder if the world-at-large were more accepting…if love and attraction were not dictated by strict gender lines, if marriage and commitment were not preordained to exist exclusively between a man and a woman... Perhaps the Prime Minister of the Copper Isles was a symptom of their society, a symptom of the disease of hatred and bigotry…

_No, _Illieno thought, _the man is a child molester. He must be brought down. _

He scribbled a quick note to another one of his contacts, the head of housekeeping to the current Queen. She would see to it that the PM's private activities would be discovered in a suitably public and damaging way.

_Too bad, _Illieno thought, his mouth twisting cynically as he tied knots in sequence, _I liked his politics. _

Illieno placed the missive in his stack of outgoing messages. Tomorrow he'd bring them to Harrison to spell the scrolls to self-destruct unless the knots were untied in just the right order—a unique sequence for every individual contact—but for now…

For now, Illieno looked forlornly at the towering stacks of parchment. He never seemed to get ahead these days. _I need a secretary, _Illieno thought, not for the first time and not for the last.

In truth, he was overwhelmed.

In the weeks and months after the war with Scanra Illieno had been scrambling to reestablish his contacts abroad and to get a handle on the intelligence reports that had been piling up while Tortall had been preoccupied with internal affairs. Illieno knew he was miserably under-informed, but he was also over-worked and there was only one of him and only so many hours in the day. His had stable contacts in the Copper Isles and the Yamani Islands (largely thanks to his extensive extended family on his mother's side), as well as a smattering of agents in Cartak, but all of his Scanran spies had been recalled or killed during the war and he had yet to remedy the situation. He also had no idea what has going on in the Eastern Lands—The Thaylian Empire was a particularly frustrating blind spot. Illieno was reduced to sifting through the rumors of ale-sodden sailors in order to discover any news of Thaylia.

And the rumors from that quarter were troubling. The last two ships to reach port from those parts brought tales of the collapse of the mighty Empire—sailors whispered that the Empress was dead and that civil war had over-taken the City, leaving the provinces to fend for themselves. Yet no matter how much ale he purchased or how carefully he phrased his questions, no one seemed to know of Ana.

Illieno pressed his palms to his burning eyes, his throat suddenly tight. He was just so bloody tired.

_I need someone I can trust, _Illieno thought, for the thousandth time. _Someone capable, reliable, and intelligent enough to sort the vital nuggets from the irrelevant without me needing to babysit them. _And once again, he thought of her and cursed the Gods for taking away such a perfect friend…and perfect assistant. _Karma,_ he thought,_ I could really use you right now. I will never forgive you for leaving me…and I will never forget you for saving him. _

Illieno leaned back in his favorite chair, allowing himself just a moment to sit back and enjoy the fact that he no longer had to work in the bloody palace, where nothing was really his idea of secure unless it was Will's bathtub or that Gods-forsaken Chamber of the Lioness that everyone was so touchy about (everyone being Lara when he gently suggested clearing out a room in there to be his office). Sometimes he still couldn't believe that they had come to him, with an offer he couldn't have refused even if he'd _wanted_ to. "It don't usually work this way," Bobby Smelter had said, "but we lost so many lads during the fightin' that nobody wants more bloody work. We've done some discussin, we have. And everyone agrees that you're the only one that everyone can agree on to take his place…"

But there were advantages and disadvantages to wearing several hats simultaneously. At the moment, the biggest disadvantage was that he didn't have a good hold over either of his professions. He also hadn't worked up the courage to tell Will that the reason he was spending so much time in the City was because he was now the King of Thieves. And he _may_ have forgotten to mention to his new friends that he was already employed by the government.

When he felt his jaw crack for the fifth time from continual yawning, Illieno decided to throw in the towel. The paperwork would still be there in the morning, but he couldn't say the same for himself unless he got some sleep. He stood up and stretched; his muscles stiff and inflexible from too many days of sitting behind a desk. For a brief moment, Illieno was tempted to just torch the remaining paper-work, but the thought of burning a buried gem of information stayed his hand.

He hadn't even gotten out from behind the desk when a sharp rapping on his office door announced the visitor. Short, long, long, short—the signal for an urgent message.

Illieno let another sigh pass his lips, but it quickly morphed into a yawn. So much for slipping out early.

"Sir?" Grizzly said, opening the door and poking his head in. "I thought you was still here…Tovy Arens just came from the gate—he's got some news ye'll wanna hear right off."

"Send him in," Illieno said, already knowing that whatever Tovy had to say was going to be interesting. Grizzly was a discriminating gatekeeper. At this time of night only the most vital messengers were allowed in.

Tovy Arens was still in his King's Own livery, obviously having come directly from his post. It was risky for lone soldiers to walk around this part of town in duty dress. Illieno took note of the detail but refrained from filing it under either bravery or stupidity—that distinction could definitely wait until morning.

"Well?" Illieno said, "Spit it out."

"I saw her," Tovy whispered, "she's back."

_Stupidity is looking likely. _Illieno frowned, taking in Tovy's wide eyes and half-vacant expression.

"Who did you see?" he asked, mustering patience, "Who is back?"

Tovy looked at him with wonder-filled eyes, then he smiled. "The Champion," he murmured, "Lady Ana."

Illieno sank slowly into his chair as the words penetrated his mind.

"Are you sure," he asked, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, and then said with quiet rancor, "If I find out this is some sort of joke…" No need to finish that thought. One of the perks of being the King-Of-All-Things-Not-Quite-So-Pretty-In-The-City was being able to pull off the trick of letting sentences hang. He found it much more satisfying to let other people fill in the blanks of the implicit threat.

"No!" Tovy exclaimed, "I swear on my father's grave—it was her! She rode up to the gates just as we were closing 'em for the night. Her horse was all a-lather and she was all dirty from traveling, but there is no mistaking her with that hair and those eyes…"

Illieno realized his hands were shaking, and clenched them into fists. Irritation and exhaustion were totally swept away as he gestured for Tovy to sit. "Where was she headed?" he asked, "Did she say anything? _Exactly_ how low ago was this? Tell me _precisely_ what happened."

~:~

He was going to _kill_ her.

Darius stumbled along blindly, his bound wrists chafing painfully as his captors shoved and prodded him along streets so rough and uneven they must have been paved with the oldest cobblestones in the universe. He had no idea where they were taking him—he'd lost his sense of direction several twisty turns ago—but from the smells and sounds around him he could tell they were not on a pleasure stroll through the must-see tourist attractions of Corus. The smell of garbage and unwashed humanity was overpowering. And he didn't need to understand Tortallian to recognize the laughter of drunks or the cat-calls of prostitutes prowling for their next John.

From the sounds of their breathing and their quiet conversation, Darius estimated that his escort consisted of four men. Three of them were heavily armed—he could tell by the heavy tread of their feet—but it was the fourth one that really worried him. He could take the others easily, even gagged and blindfolded as he was, but the little one with the light step was a…what had Ana called them?

A mage. He was a mage.

Anger made Darius bite down too hard on his gage, inadvertently sinking his teeth into his tongue in the process. His curses were muffled by the gag, but the men must have understood his sentiment, because one of them poked him sharply in the kidney, growling what was undoubtedly the Tortallian version of, "Shut up, you!"

She was _so_ dead.

Darius lowered his head, letting his body go limp. The men shouted at him, but he refused to move, refused to react as two of them grabbed him and started dragging him backwards. He ignored the pain in his armpits where the men were grasping him and the uncomfortable way his legs and feet bounced on the uneven paving. Instead he concentrated on his bound hands. They had done a shoddy job of tying him up—the cords were tight, but the knots were amateur. When the men finally stopped, dumping him unceremoniously to the ground, Darius had the coils reworked to his satisfaction.

He listened to the men talking—it sounded like a negotiation of some kind. There were more voices than there had been. The street they were on was relatively quiet compared to where they'd been, so much so that the sound of a door slamming nearby made him jump.

He lay on the uneven ground, letting his senses roam. His captors were close at hand, but he thought there were less of them. His hands were essentially unbound…but where was the little one? The mage. Darius couldn't hear his voice in the murmured conversation a few away, but his escape would be wasted if the mage was close enough to incapacitate him with magic.

The door opened again, and then Darius was being hauled to his feet though no hand touched him. He felt his skin crawl.

_Magic, _he thought, darkly. _I was right not to waste my advantage._

Someone shoved him and Darius went sprawling as he tripped over the doorframe. He clutched his hands together behind his back and took the fall on his side, wincing as his shoulder connected with hard stone. He heard laughter, then someone grabbed him and forced him upright again.

"No funny stuff." A voice hissed in his ear, in heavily accented Thaylian. "Emma here has got an eye on you. One bad move…and you be dead faster than you open your mouth to scream."

_Hmm…so the mage is a woman. _Darius thought, _no wonder her step was so light!_

Darius bowed his head, consenting to be led through what sounded like the back hallway of a tavern. He stumbled up several flights of steps—five to be precise—and down a long hallway. He was certain he could find his way out again, provided he could take out the mage first.

Someone knocked on a door—short rap, long rap, long rap, short rap—and he heard the person inside respond. Then he was herded into the room. He counted the footsteps retreating back down the passageway—it sounded like two pair of feet. One stopped just beyond the doorway, while the other continued on. That left three of his escorts…and whoever was already present in the room.

His blindfold was suddenly ripped away, the gag upset in the process. He spit out as much of it as he could while taking in his surroundings. He noted how far away the two men on his left were standing. He did not see the mage but he caught her shadow in his peripheral vision and realized she was closing the door. A huge desk took up the bulk of the back half of the room. Darius looked at the face of the man seated before him, half-hidden behind haphazard stacks of several trees worth of paper, and judged that it would take him at least thirty seconds to get up, navigate around the cluttered desk, and cross the space between them. Then the man raised his head and their eyes met.

For a moment, Darius was startled by the _green_ of those eyes—by the intelligence which weighed him, the authority which challenged him...and the astonishment that made them grow wide.

Then the door swung shut behind him and Darius was propelled into movement.

He spun, his hands springing free as he pounced upon the mage as she turned from shutting the door. Her eyes widened in shock but her lips had no chance to voice a spell before Darius's hands tapped her in two vital places and she collapsed, unconscious.

_Five seconds_, he counted silently.

Smoothly, Darius side-stepped her falling body, turning to meet the attack of the muscle-head telegraphing his punches from across the room. Darius used the man's momentum to throw him head over teakettle, then blocked the knife-thrust of the heavy-footed lummox who barreled up behind the first by sending the thrusting arm shooting past him.

_Twelve seconds_.

Calmly, he disarmed the knife-man as he lunged again, using the heavy hilt to drop him with a smart rap on the temple.

_Sixteen seconds_.

Knife in hand, Darius glanced at the man he'd thrown across the room, who was just stumbling to his feet. Their eyes met. A dagger appeared in the other man's hand for the briefest instant before he hurled it straight at Darius's heart. Darius stepped smoothly aside from the dagger's arc and plucked it from the air, returning it to its owner with lightning speed. The knife in his left hand followed in quick succession, pinning the man's hand to the wall as he tried to spin away from the first dagger. Darius could help but smile as he saw he'd judged the direction of the man's dodge perfectly; the first throw narrowly sliced through his belt, which severed completely as the man twisted to try and free his pinned hand, causing the man's breeches to fall around his ankles.

_Twenty-five seconds_.

Darius whirled again, prepared to meet the attack of the man behind the desk—and froze.

He was gone.

Something sharp and cold pressed against his neck, even as he felt a second prick in the small of his back.

He could _feel_ the man behind him, but there was no arm, no knife, no body!

Then suddenly an arm appeared before him, the tanned hand casually tapping the dirk against his jugular. Darius swallowed, closing his eyes. The smell of cloves and cinnamon was strong in his nostrils.

"I am going to kill her," he grumbled under his breath.

~:~

The door opened behind him, and Illieno heard Grizzly gasp as he took in the scene. "Boss?" he questioned, somehow able to convey several pertinent questions with a single syllable.

"Situation under control, Griz," Illieno said, "Would you send Sally up, please? Looks like we need her healing touch. Lock the door behind you."

Grizzly grunted his assent and the door swung shut again, the lock clicking as it was driven home.

"Are you the translator?" Illieno asked, glancing over at the man staring in shock at the blood dripping down the wall from his pinned hand. He didn't appear to notice that his pants were bunched around his ankles, nor, indeed, that his undergarments were a week overdue for a washing. "Oy!" Illieno called, repeating his question. The man blinked a couple of times, then cleared his throat. "That's me. I speak some Thaylian."

"What is he saying?" Illieno asked, careful not to let his knife stray too far from the man's throat. Illieno may have had a good two inches on him in height, but this fellow was _built._ Built from an entirely different blue-print than Illieno's tall and lean design—his shoulders seemed wide enough to have their own hemisphere. Illieno watched a vein throb in the man's throat and tried really hard to ignore the close contact of their bodies, but every time he took a breath he got a lungful of the stranger's scent. It soured his temper that a man who was likely an assassin had sweat that smelled so delicious. It was indecent.

"I think he's saying, 'I'm gonna kill her', that's what kept muttering when we captured him" the translator said, after some hesitation.

Illieno frowned. He hated being right all the time.

…But there was something fishy going on. A professional would never reveal himself in such an obvious way.

"What's your name?"

The translator cocked his head, "My name or his name?"

"Your name," Illieno growled, his patience running thin.

"They calls me Lucky Hammersmith," the man said, a little haughtily.

_What a bloody stupid name, _Illieno thought. "Okay, Lucky. Translate for me," he said.

"If ye haven't noticed, sir," the translator said, "I'm kinda wounded over here."

"I'll get to you!" Illieno snapped. "Tell him what I say."

Lucky grumbled something under his breath, but didn't openly protest. "Tell him to sit in the chair," Illieno said. The translator said something that sounded like reptile speech—all hissing vowels and short consonants. But the Thaylian seemed to understand. He nodded, and Illieno lowered the knife at his throat and stepped back, careful not to let his guard down. The man was unbelievably fast—his alacrity reminded Illieno uneasily of Will, whose speed he had always regarded as a bit supernatural—and was obviously exceptionally trained. Illieno breathed in a refreshing lungful of un-assassin-scented air and felt better straightaway.

The man walked smoothly to the chair before Illieno's cluttered desk and sat with deceptive ease. He looked at Illieno impassively enough, yet his light brown eyes sent a thrill through Illieno's system again.

Those eyes were dangerous. A man could drown in those eyes.

Illieno tore his gaze away, glancing down at the mage and battle-hardened mercenary that this man had incapacitated with all the ease of tying a bootlace.

"I admit it—I'm impressed," Illieno said, gesturing at the unconscious pair. "Very neatly done. Not that you would have gotten far; anyone who emerges from that hallway without the proper escort is—" he snapped his fingers, "instantly incinerated." It was a bluff, but the Thaylian couldn't know that.

The brown-eyed man shrugged as he heard the translation, then—moving his hands very slowly—he pointed at the gag that he had only half-managed to spit out. Illieno nodded his assent, and the man untied it, throwing it aside with a disgusted look.

"He says, 'It was worth a try'," said the translator, his voice strained.

Illieno sighed. "Yell if he so much as twitches," he said, and went invisible. He smirked with satisfaction as the prisoner's jaw dropped in astonishment. Then he sheathed his daggers and bent down to check on Emma and Padtrik. Both were still unconscious, but their pulses were strong and their breathing steady. Then he strode over to where Lucky Hammersmith was pinned to the wall. Illieno yanked the dagger out of his hand, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Lucky yelped and clutched his bloody member to his chest

"Pull up your pants," he snapped, "Sally will be here in a moment,"

Illieno glanced around, but—seeing no readily available cloth—turned back to Lucky, who was trying to pull his pants up with one hand.

"You're not gonna die," he said, just managing to keep the irritation of out his voice. "I need you to translate for me again."

Out of the corner of his eye Illieno saw the prisoner surveying his office, his gaze deceivingly disinterested.

"Don't even think of it," Illieno growled, "the windows are shatter-proof and only open on my command. Those other doors are both locked with spells and wouldn't be of use to you anyway."

While Lucky translated, Illieno felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized that the brown-eyed man was looking directly at him. He stepped across the room with his lightest tred and the eyes did not track his movement. Illieno quickly smothered the sigh that threatened to escape. He was far too exhausted to deal with this right now.

Emma stirred on the floor, moaning slightly as she put a hand to her head and blinked. Just then he heard Grizzly knocking his return. Illieno made himself visible, calling the all clear. The door swung open and Sally Sathers stepped into the room, her sandy hair falling over her shoulder in several long braids. She looked around with an amused smile hovering about her lips as the door closed behind her, her eyes roving over the prisoner in the chair, Lucky, Padtrik's prone body, and the way Emma was clutching her head in her hands, her face scrunched in pain. Then Sally stepped right into Illieno's personal space. "You called for me," she said, looking up at him in a way she probably imagined was coy. Illieno crossed his arms and resisted the urge to back away from her. Men did _not_ back away from Sally Sathers. Well, most men, anyway.

Illieno raised an eyebrow, suddenly wishing he'd sent for another healer. "Lucky over there could use your attention," he said, pointedly. Sally threw him a little smile and then sauntered over to where Lucky was still standing by the far wall. He ignored them, glancing quickly back to the brown-eyed man—who was lounging in his second-best chair as if he owned it, his expression bored as hell.

Illieno turned to Emma, helping her to her feet. "How are you feeling, love?" he asked. Sally Sathers shot Emma a dangerous look from across the room, but Em didn't notice. She blinked up at him, then her eyes widened.

Only to narrow to slits as they fell upon the prisoner.

Her hand moved faster than he could react, her voice snapping a spell that cracked through space like a whip. The brown-eyed man flinched as tiny little Emma yelled her spell, and three parallel lines of blood bloomed across his face, like he'd been clawed. Emma raised her hand again, her face vivid with rage, but Illieno caught her arm in its upward arc. She turned her glare on him, her lips snarling.

"That's enough for now, darlin'," Illieno said with a smile. "Why don't you wait outside with Grizzly? If I have any trouble getting answers from him I promise you'll be the one I call on to change his mind." Emma glared at him, but didn't protest his suggestion. Instead, she turned again to the prisoner and flicked her finger casually.

Chains sprouted from the floor, wrapping themselves around his ankles, chest, and arms. The man closed his eyes as the chains slithered over him, effectively securing him to the chair. His face revealed his disquiet, his mouth unconsciously shuddering even after the chains had settled.

_So, _Illieno thought. _You don't like magic._ Looks like they had something in common.

Illieno jumped about a foot as Sally Sathers appeared out of nowhere and put a hand on his chest. He felt her magic tingling through his body and slapped her hand away sharply. She gasped and held the hand like it was grievously injured, her eyes wounded. "I was just making sure you were unhurt," she said breathlessly, her hand reaching toward him again.

Emma snorted loudly from beside him. "Sure you was," she said sarcastically. Emma glanced up at Illieno's face and one corner of her mouth twisted upward. "Come on, lassie," she said, prodding Sally toward the door, "time to let the boys play." Em gestured and Padtrik's unconscious body was lifted into the air; she moved her hands like she was conducting music and Padtrik's body jerkily reached out toward Sally, who made a disgusted sound in her throat and fled, her exit closely followed by Padtrik's hovering form.

Em pressed a key into Illieno's hand, nodding at the chains. Then she winked and strolled out, whistling off-key as she shut the door behind her.

_Hmmm…_Illieno thought looking after her. _I really must get to know Emma better. She might make an excellent assistant someday._

The chained man cleared his throat, drawing Illieno's attention. He spoke briefly, his face revealing a surprisingly good humor considering the circumstances. His voice was a little hoarse though.

"So, what now?" Lucky translated, not even looking up from the examination of his once-again flawless hand.

"Now I ask questions and you answer," was Illieno's reply. "I'm sure you know the drill."

The sides of the man's mouth lifted briefly as Lucky gave his translation.

Illieno opened his mouth for the first question, but the man spoke again before a sound escaped his lips. Illieno's eyes widened with shock as he recognized his own name in the words. He felt frozen to the ground as he stared at the prisoner.

"What did he say?" Illieno choked, glancing at Lucky's incredulous face. His mouth hung open as he glanced back and forth between Illieno and the Thaylian. "He's lying," Lucky said. "I'm sure of it."

"_What did he say?"_ Illieno repeated, his face darkening.

Lucky frowned. "He said, 'Shall we cut to the chase? I am not a spy, I'm not working for anyone, I don't want to steal your secrets, and I don't want to have to hurt anybody else. I would also bet my sister's good health that you are Illieno. Which is probably the best luck I've had all night—for a bit I was certain that this was the den of the King of Thieves.'"

_Ha, _Illieno thought. _This _is _the den of the King of Thieves. _

But the brown-eyed man hadn't finished, and the next name that fell from his lips shattered the paralysis that held Illieno's feet.

The sound of his dagger leaving the sheath was no louder than a whisper, but it halted the Thaylian's speech like a bell tolling impeding oblivion.

Illieno closed the distance between them in two furious strides; his fist clenched the dirk so tight that his knuckles were white as he used the blade to tip the man's chin up. Their eyes locked, and Illieno felt a twinge of satisfaction run through him as he saw fear glittering there.

"How do you know Ana?" Illieno hissed.

~:~

Darius felt the tip of the dirk biting into his larynx as he stared into two green eyes that shone with a murderous fury. He swallowed, suddenly uncertain of his control of the situation. He didn't trust the translator to communicate his words accurately and uncensored—and it was plain that Illieno was angry enough to slit his throat if his answer didn't satisfy. The time for games was over.

"Ana is my sister," he said with slow candor, "I changed her diapers when she was a babe in arms and taught her how to ride and shoot. I followed her here after she snuck away from our campsite earlier this evening. The gates to the city were locked so I was forced to climb the wall in order to gain entry. That was when I was ambushed and brought here. The rest you know."

Darius looked steadily into Illieno's eyes as he spoke, hoping the truth of his words wouldn't get lost in translation.

The translator gave what sounded like a much abbreviated version of Darius's speech. The skepticism in his voice was obvious, even in an alien tongue. Nevertheless, the words seemed to have a calming effect on Illieno. The dagger relaxed against Darius's neck, though its point was not completely retracted. He didn't need the translation of Illieno's next question—the meaning was clear.

"Darius de'Mar at your service," he said, bowing his head briefly, "though I would thank you not to spread the knowledge about. The name de'Mar is a dangerous one to have these days."

"Illieno's is smart man," the translator sneered in his mutilated version of Thaylian speech, "he not convinced you speaking true. He thinks it very…convenient…you show up here just when Lady Ana comes back. Wants to know why you say you was going to kill her."

Darius could have kicked himself for his stupidity. He threw the translator a dirty look and said, "Your translator may know Thaylian words, but is clearly unfamiliar with our expressions. 'I am going to kill her,' was a way of saying that I am extremely angry at my sister and she is going to be in a world of…in lots of trouble when I see her again."

Illieno raised an eyebrow at the translation, his face clearly doubtful. Then he fired off a series of questions.

"Illieno wants to know: why you so angry with her? Why you not with her? And if she really is your sister, you tell where her birthmark be, what her favorite song to sing be, and who her father be."

Darius laughed—he couldn't help it. He looked up at Illieno and saw a wicked humor in the ironic quirk of his mouth. He held up five fingers.

"I'll answer the questions in reverse," Darius said. "I knew Ana's father as Thom Trebond—though you would call him Thom _of_ Trebond I think…"

The first of Illieno's fingers went down as soon as the name Thom Trebond crossed his lips, though the translation lagged behind.

"Ana can't sing worth a damn—she is completely tone-deaf—not that that ever stops her from singing her father's lullaby. I believe it goes something like, 'hush now little one fear not the night, the Lioness will watch over you tonight'…and Ana has no birthmarks, unless you count all her freckles. Though I don't want to know how you know that."

The dagger lifted away from his throat even as Illieno grinned at the translations of his words. He put down two more fingers, and raised his eyebrows.

Darius sighed. He'd been hoping Illieno would let the last questions go.

"Ana wanted me to stay behind while she returned to Corus, but I didn't want to let her go alone when her reception was uncertain…and—I admit—I didn't like the idea of being by myself in a country where I don't speak the language. I thought I'd convinced her, but…" Darius sighed. "She tied me to a tree and left me in the woods," he muttered, his face flushed with embarrassment. He knew what they what they would think: a tiny little speck of a thing like Ana shouldn't be capable of tying a man his size to a tree. She had totally cheated, but he knew it was pointless to say that.

Lucky was laughing too hard to translate. Darius glared at him, wishing he'd been a little less precise with his belt-shearing throw. Finally he stuttered out the translation and Darius watched Illieno's face transform.

Illieno was one of those people who laughed with his entire body; the sound that emerged from his lips merely the audible manifestation of the glee that seemed to erupt from every pore. His green eyes met Darius's and he couldn't help the answering smile which rose to his lips. The wicked sparkle was back, and Darius decided that he could become quite fond of that impish gleam.

A memory popped into his mind unbidden.

_Ana's hair whipped in the breeze as they stood side-by-side at the rail of the gently rolling vessel. The sailor's delight of a red sunset lit her face in its ruddy glow, erasing the sickly pallor that had for too long overshadowed her features. But she was getting stronger every day and every day she amazed him with her forbearance and perseverance. It had been a triumph, the day she emerged from her bed and took her first toddling steps without his arm to support her. With the joy of her triumph came too a twinge of sadness, for it meant that they would soon leave their sanctuary. He had enjoyed having her to himself and knew that things would never be the same once they reached their final destination. But her enthusiasm had won him over at last, and he found himself asking eager questions about Tortall._

_ The enthusiasm enlivened her face now, as she spoke of the friends they would meet at journey's end. He asked leading questions because he knew that in her secret heart Ana was afraid to return and she needed to find comfort and courage in teaching and telling. In all honesty, he was not particularly interested in her answers. He knew that when the time came he would discover their characters for himself. _

_ But there was one name that always caught his attention more than the others. Perhaps it was the sly glee that entered Ana's eyes when she spoke of him that fascinated him so…or perhaps it was the way she described him, with his ready wit and even readier laughter, his steadfast loyalty and mysterious talents. Or perhaps it was just the fact that he had been the one to stand by her side when everyone else had turned away and the world was ending before their eyes. Yes, perhaps it was merely the fact that Illieno Reinhart had been there for her when he was not that made him perk up his ears whenever his name crossed her lips…_

_ "I just can't _wait_ to see his face!" Ana grinned, "I bet it takes him a whole thirty seconds to think of up something to say." Ana glanced over at him, her eyes taking on that familiar mischievous edge. "I really cannot wait to introduce you two," she said, giggling an infuriating little giggle. "Between the two of you I'm sure you'll figure out how to unravel the fabric of the universe within a year or two." _

_ Darius had long since given up trying to get her to explain such nonsensical remarks, now he just played along. _

_ "Well, it is a good thing the Gods aren't around anymore—wouldn't want them to interfere with my grand plans for world domination."_

_ Ana grinned, "Don't worry," she chimed, "I'm sure when you add me and Karma to the mix we'll figure out how to put it back together again…within at _least_ a decade."_

_ No, it was definitely that giggle, Darius thought. That giggle that said she knew something he didn't. He hated that giggle. _

Darius blinked, realizing that he had been staring at Illieno for much longer than was strictly proper. He dropped his gaze to his hands and felt the blood rise to his cheeks as all of Ana's sly remarks suddenly took on new meaning.

He glanced up at Illieno again, but looked away almost immediately, suddenly unable to meet that green gaze. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that he'd glimpsed understanding dawn on Illieno's face.

~:~

Illieno's heart raced in his chest, pounding so loudly he thought the Gods in their distant realms would hear it. He willed himself to look away from Darius's face, willed his heart to slow and the hope that rose up inside him to have patience.

He knew nothing of this man, nothing save that he was undoubtedly Ana's brother, that they had treated him in an infamous manner…and that he had absolutely beautiful brown eyes.

Illieno glanced at Lucky and was relieved to find him blessedly oblivious. "Tied him to a tree! Ha!" he chuckled to himself.

Illieno cleared his throat pointedly, turning back to Darius—who, he couldn't help but note, was smiling a little foolishly at his fingernails. "Well," he announced, "I'm convinced. Even if tying her brother to a tree wasn't a classic Ana move, there is no mistaking the familial resemblance of your blushes."

A frown crossed Illieno's face at Lucky's short translation. "Did you tell him what I said?" he asked, his tone a bit sharper than he intended.

Lucky shrugged, "I told him you believe him. I, myself, am not so sure."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Illieno retorted sourly, "and when I say something to him I expect you to translate word for word. The same goes for everything he says." There really was no reason for him to be so angry, Illieno reminded himself. Just because Lucky had denied him an opportunity to impress Darius with his brilliant wit was _not_ an excuse for distemper.

Worry lines appeared between Lucky's brows, and he shifted his weight nervously, "Sorry, yer Rogueness," he murmured, "I'll do me best to stay true to what ye say."

Illieno glared at Lucky until he dropped his gaze. He inhaled deeply, surprised at the loathing he felt toward one of his own 'subjects'. He wondered how much of that hatred was actually frustration that he and Darius could not communicate directly. Illieno knelt before the chair, slipping Emma's little key into the lock resting by Darius's ankle. The chains evaporated as the key turned, and he saw Darius shiver as he got back to his feet.

"Do you know any Tortallian?" he asked, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him to ask before.

Lucky was prompt with his translation but it was clear that Darius had understood the question because Lucky had hardly gotten two words out before he replied with the universal gesture for "a little"—two fingers converging.

"Few words." Darius said, rather clumsily. "Ana teach me."

"What do you know?" Illieno asked through Lucky.

Darius thought for a moment. "Hello," he said. "Please. Thank you. Yes. No." He paused, then pointed to the dagger still in Illieno's hand. "Knife." He made a gesture like drawing a bow. "Bow, arrow. Sword." He pretended to unsheathe an invisible sword.

Illieno rolled his eyes.

"She totally _would_ teach you the names for weapons," he muttered, only to find himself completely elated by Darius's laughter when Lucky promptly gave the translation. They shared a smile, which transmuted into a laugh as each read the others' thought on their faces: Ana was in deep, deep trouble.

~:~

Ana awoke for no apparent reason, her eyes snapping open of their own accord and her heart pounding as if her life were in danger. For a moment she was terrified, terrified that the events she'd been reliving in her dreams were just that—a wishful dream.

Then she felt her body rising and falling with Will's every breath, felt his arm across her hip and the soft tickle of his chest hair upon her cheek. She felt a smile pulling at her lips even as tears started in her eyes as she listened to the sound of him breathing and the slow, even rhythm of his heart.

Surely there was no place safer than where she was right now…so why had she woken?

Ana closed her eyes, letting her Gift fill her innards until her fingertips tingled, reveling in her unobstructed ability to tap it, then with a mental hand wave she sent it exploring.

For a few blissful moments Ana just lay in Will's arms, content to inhale his scent with every breath.

Then she sat bolt upright, as an alarm bell went off somewhere behind her eyes.

There was someone in the room.

She felt Will stirring beside her, his sleep disturbed by her sudden movement, and straight away she was furious.

Violet fire burst from her palms with a searing intensity, instantly illuminating the entire room.

Which was empty.

She felt Will's muscles tense next to her and she knew he was alert and awake. He sat up slowly, a wicked looking dagger appearing out of nowhere in his fist. His other hand touched her shoulder as he whispered, "What is it, Ana?"

"Show yourself," Ana growled. "Or I will start lobbing fireballs in every direction."

"Why is it," a familiar voice drawled from the foot of the bed, "that whenever we have a heart-warming reunion scene you are always over-doing the dramatic lighting?"

Illieno popped into existence, leaning casually against a bed post as he threw her his trademark smirk.

"And," he added, quirking an eyebrow, "you're _always naked._"

"Goddess, Illieno!"Ana swore, flicking her wrists and sending the violet flames dancing across the room to light the lamps. "I could have killed you!"

Illieno grinned unrepentantly, "You can't kill me," he teased, "Who will teach your twelve children to laugh and neglect their studies while you two are busy playing the Hero and the King?"

He tossed something at her and she reached out automatically to grab it—a wadded up ball of cream-colored fabric. Ana frowned at it, then looked up at Illieno with curiosity in her eyes. "I think everyone here would be more comfortable if you put that on," he said dryly.

Ana glanced over at Will, who shrugged. "I could kill him," he said, the corners of his lips twitching, "Then we could go back to bed."

His breeches hit him in the face, smothering the string of curses that erupted as his belt and boots followed shortly thereafter.

Ana giggled as she slipped out of bed and lifted the tunic over her head. But Illieno's startled gasp and vehement oath made her freeze in the middle of shrugging it on, her nerves instantly on high alert.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing around.

Illieno was staring at her, a look of horror on his face.

Ana pulled the tunic down self-consciously, lacing it tightly for maximum coverage. Illieno looked up and met her eyes, his mouth open in dismay.

She raised an eyebrow, "I know girls aren't your thing, 'llieno," she said, summoning a smile. "but I think you're over-doing the disgust factor," she leaned toward him and stage-whispered, "Will appreciates the gesture, but I prefer your usual indifference." She grinned at Will, but her smile faded as she saw that now he was staring at her too, his hands frozen in the act of buckling his belt.

Ana glanced back and forth between them. "What?" she asked, holding up her hands. "Has my face suddenly broken out in green spots?"

"You know about Illieno?" Will blurted, just as Illieno whispered, "Your stomach—_what_ _happened_ to you?"

"Er…" was Ana's brilliant response.

Illieno shook his head and blinked, then held up one finger in Will's direction. "We will come back to that," he said, "but first I want to know why it looks like someone carved a hole in your stomach."

Ana studied the floor, shifting her weight. "It's a long story," she said quietly, "and I'd rather not go into it all now…but suffice it to say that I was wounded. I had to spend some time recuperating, but I'm practically as good as new now."

Illieno frowned at her for a moment, then muttered something under his breath. Ana's brows drew together in response. She could have sworn he'd said, "Understatements must run in the family."

What was _that_ supposed to mean?

But before she could ask about it Illieno distracted her again.

"A moment of clarification, if you would Ana darling," he said brightly. Ana raised an eyebrow, surprised at the sudden change of tone. "How long have you known my…uh…preference?"

Ana rolled her eyes at him. "I suspected as much about two weeks after I met you…" ("Ha!" Illieno cried, grinning at Will). "But," Ana continued, "I didn't know for sure until we met the Seven Protectors." She grinned slyly at Illieno. "You didn't spare Queen Thayet a second glance, but you were practically licking your lips and blowing kisses at Raoul of Goldenlake."

Will burst into laughter while Illieno pouted and protested that he was _never_ so obvious. But Will stopped laughing when Illieno turned to him and held out his hand expectantly. "You owe me a new cloak," he announced. He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he said, "I'm thinking emerald brocade with fox fur trim."

Will crossed his arms and then looked across the bed at Ana.

"He told you, didn't he?"

Ana giggled, catching on to the exchange. She bounced onto the bed. "Nope," she said, "not a word." She crawled across the expanse, then stood up and kissed Will on the nose, her arms settling comfortably around his shoulders. "Looks like Illieno will finally get some clothing that isn't black!"

Will gave her her favorite lop-sided grin. "I'll buy him an entirely new wardrobe…" he turned his head to peer at Illieno, "…_if_ he swears to leave now and never set foot in my bedchamber again."

Illieno cocked his head, his eyes glittering with mischief. "I'll take that offer…as long as I can take Ana with me."

"Not on your life," Will said, his arm going firmly around Ana's waist.

Illieno laughed, then clapped his hands together. "Good!" he said, "Glad that's settled. The field-trip wouldn't have been as fun without you."

Ana and Will exchanged a glance.

"We're going somewhere?" she asked.

Illieno grinned. "Of course!" he cried, "do you think I would roust you from your love nest just to say hello and annoy you with my playful banter?"

Ana and Will both opened their mouths, but Illieno continued hastily. "On second thought, don't answer that," he said. "But there _is _a point to the intrusion. I am in need of your translation skills."

Ana felt her brow furrowing. "My translation skills?" she repeated slowly.

"Yep," Illieno replied, not a whit bothered by her troubled frown. He really was too cheerful for this time of night. "A crazy man tried to climb the wall into Corus a while ago, but luckily me laddies intercepted him and brought him to me. Keeps babbling on in Thaylian, but my current translator is no good; he only knows a few words and phrases."

Ana gasped, her eyes wide with dismay as the realization sunk in. _Darius._

Illieno nodded, knowingly. "Yeah, that's how I thought you'd react. It's all right; we got him chained up good and proper. He kept mumbling about killing you—but don't worry, we wouldn't let an assassin harm you."

Ana clapped herself on the forehead. "What have I done?" she cried. She leap off the bed and ran up to Illieno. "Take me to him right away," she said, her voice pleading. "We have to get him out of there!"

Illieno looked down at her. "Too late," he said. "I already sprung him. He's waiting for you in the lesser library along with Lucas, Lara, and the Brood. I sent Tohmas a note too, but he hadn't shown up by the time I left to fetch you."

Ana stared up at him, then her face darkened.

"Don't," Illieno said, "It wasn't nice but you deserved that moment of panic."

"What in Mirthros-name are you up to, Illieno?" Will snapped, coming up next to them, "That wasn't funny."

"No," Illieno said, uncharacteristically serious. "You know what else isn't really funny? Knocking out a man you care about, lashing him to a tree and then leaving him alone in a forest _full of bloody spidrens._"

Ana felt her jaw drop in horror. She stumbled backwards, her welling eyes searching Illieno's hard face. She felt Will's arms wrapping around her, but his silent comfort only made the tears flow faster. How could she have been so stupid? So selfish?

Illieno looked up at Will and then back down at Ana. "Okay," he said, "I get it—I totally understand that you guys needed to work out your shit without the rest of us sticking our well-meaning but meddle-some heads into your private business. However, somebody had to knock you out of fantasy land and remind you of reality at some point. And since apparently I'm the only one brave or stupid enough to risk your everlasting resentment, I'm the one who is going to do it."

He inhaled a deep breath, looked them both firmly in the eye, and began again.

"I am absolutely furious with you both, you know," he said, but his voice held no anger, only simple honesty. "I can't believe you left your brother like that, Ana—completely vulnerable and only knowing a couple words of Tortallian!" Illieno shook his head. "He was nearly killed three times before we could figure out who he was. Thank the Goddess he's even more resourceful than you are in a tight spot."

Ana closed her eyes as Illieno paused, the tears still dripping down her face. Guilt roiled in her stomach and shame made her lips tremble. She was the worst sister that had ever existed. Even Marghi had had the unity of the Empire at the heart of her betrayal—Ana's own was due to purely selfish reasons. _He will forgive me, _she thought miserably. _He will forgive me though I do not deserve it, for that is Darius's way. _

Illieno's lengthy sigh made her look up at him again. "A day is hardly enough time to get to know someone," he murmured, "but I have a feeling that your brother would have underplayed the stress you put him through and made like everything was sunshine and daisies." Ana nodded. He had judged Darius quite accurately, considering the circumstances. "But I couldn't just let this pass," Illieno continued. His eyes met hers for a protracted moment, and a sudden suspicion woke in her. "You've had your reconciliation period," he said, "but now I think its time that Tortall get reacquainted with her Champion and King."

Ana studied the ground for a long moment, then she stepped out of Will's arms and threw her own around Illieno. He squeezed her tightly for a moment then held her at arm's length. "I really missed you, kiddo." He said, his voice hoarse. "Tortall just isn't the same without you."

Ana smiled up at him through the tears shining in her eyes. "Thanks, 'llieno," she murmured. "I needed to hear that…and you're right Darius wouldn't have been so…"she laughed dryly, "frank."

She cocked her head and her smile took on a knowing edge. "You like him, then?" she asked slyly.

Illieno's glower was betrayed by the way the corners of his lips kept twitching. "I don't believe that's any of your business," he said loftily.

"Illieno," Will said slowly, his face troubled. "…how can you have known Darius for an entire day? Don't you mean a few hours? It's still dark…you can't have known him that long…"

Illieno frowned at them. "The sun just set," he announced, looking curiously between them. "We laughed when you didn't appear for breakfast…and smiled knowingly when you skipped lunch, but missing three meals in a row was a bit much. I mean, nobody can survive on love alone—not even you two."

Ana's jaw dropped and she turned to Will to find in looking just as thunderstruck.

"We slept _all day?_" she asked, her voice rising on the last two words.

It was Illieno's turn to look astonished. Then he started giggling.

"What?"Ana and Will asked.

"You spent—" giggle, "almost an entire—" more giggles, "_day_ locked up together…and _you were sleeping the whole time?_" Illieno was bent almost double with laughter now.

"Well," said Will, "not the _whole _time."

Illieno shook his head at them, an impish little grin splitting his cheeks. "I won't tell, I swear. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation."

Ana's stomach gurgled loudly, momentarily startling them all. Chuckling, Illieno snatched Will's tunic and Ana's leggings from where they lay draped over the end of the bed, tossing them to their owners. "Now finish getting dressed and we'll see about getting some food into Ana's belly—sounds like its ready to stage a rebellion!"

Ana pulled on her leggings and then retreated to a nearby chair to don her boots, smiling a little to herself as she realized she was wearing the same outfit she'd worn for the Feast of Anointing. _That must be Lara's doing, _she thought happily, grateful not to have to put on the travel-stained clothing she'd arrived in. But she paused in the middle of lacing her left boot as something Illieno said finally clicked in her mind.

"Wait a minute," Ana said slowly, her eyes wide as she turned to Illieno, "What reputation?"

~:~

Darius wandered through the stacks of a beautifully furnished library, his gaze roving longingly over shelf after shelf of incomprehensible titles. He could not wait to be able to decipher the mysteries held within the tomes; his scholar's mind itching with curiosity about the knowledge contained in this Tortallian treasure trove. He'd always loved books—loved the weight of them in his hand, the whisper of ancient pages carefully turned, the heavy, musky odor of paper and aging leather. Books and the study of them had been his passion and his pleasure all his life, his only escape from the hard realities of command and warfare.

Drifting among the aisles with his fingers brushing over ancient bindings and his ears filled with the distant sound of children's laughter, Darius felt an alertness tingling beneath his skin, a sharp awareness that he had never known, not even in the heat of battle. He felt as if he was only now waking up, and wondered if he had only dreamed that he had once led the largest army in the known world, that realms large and small had once fallen at his command, that he had once lived in a City that had never known the sparking touch of magic.

Less than a day he had been here, but already he understood the love and the longing in Ana's eyes when she spoke of Tortall. There was something about this place that sought to fill a void within him that he had never known existed. Darius looked at the books around him and knew that he could be content here, content in a way he'd never dreamed possible until only a few hours ago.

The tenor of the distant noises changed and Darius realized the children must have left. There were only three voices now, three adult voices that must belong to the big man Illieno had identified as Lucas, his wife Lara, and another, the voice of the blond-haired man with the wise eyes who had healed the cuts on his face and body earlier that morning. But it was not until he heard the sound of a door opening and Ana's voice crying out in joy that he turned and made his way back to the long table which held the remnants of their meal. Kind and polite as Ana's friends had been to him, he couldn't help but feel the intruder to their intimacy. Pantomime was a frustrating means of communication (the translator had been dismissed in the early afternoon and hadn't returned, much to Darius's satisfaction. The man had gotten on his nerves.) and it had not been long after they finished eating that Darius signaled his desire to explore the library through copious hand gestures. It had been a long day, a long day spent waiting in vain for Ana and the King to emerge. His anger at her had faded by the time Illieno fetched him from the guest room they'd stashed him in for the morning meal, but even inviting and entertaining as her friends were he still longed for her arrival. He knew she would dispel the awkward tension of his unexpected presence.

Darius turned the final corner of the last bookshelf and stopped to take in the scene before him. His sister was chattering in Tortallian to Lara, who held her face in two hands, using her thumbs to wipe away the tears which streamed from Ana's eyes. He felt a smile pulling at his lips as he watched Ana laughing with joy, her hand reaching out to take the blonde's hand—_Tohmas, that's what he said his name was—_as Lucas blinked furiously by her side.

"You must be Darius," a quiet voice said in Thaylian. Darius turned to find a man with curly black hair shot through with silver approaching him. His sapphire eyes twinkled with the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth and softened his hard features. "It is an honor to finally meet you," the King of Tortall said, holding out his hand a little awkwardly, "though I apologize for the delay of my greeting."

Darius shook the proffered hand, and returned the smile. "The honor is mine," he said diplomatically, "for long have I wanted to shake the hand of the man who saved my sister's life. For that you have my eternal gratitude." Darius bowed his head, and when he continued his voice was humble, "I have no gift that can repay such a debt, but I would offer to you what talents I possess and hope that my service might serve as recompense, for I have come to you a beggar with nothing save that which my two hands may provide."

And Will replied, "Let there be no debts between us, for you have returned to me that which is most precious and which I had thought forever lost. The only service I would ask of you is that of friendship, and—if you would do me the honor of granting your permission—of brotherhood."

Darius looked up into Will's face and was comforted by the anxious sincerity hidden beneath the serious tone. "I would be a negligent brother, indeed, if I did not insist upon nuptials after such an interlude," he said, grinning. "But, in truth, you had my blessing long before I arrived at your shores." Darius leaned in conspiratorially, "I knew she loved you because she avoided talking about you at all costs when she was awake, but your name was constantly on her lips when she slept."

"Are you talking about me?" Ana asked, catching them both looking at her as she made her way across the room to them. "I hope you aren't telling stories, Darius."

"Only good ones, sister dearest," Darius said, winking.

"And by good, he means entertaining," Will added, with a teasing smile. Darius grinned at Will, suddenly feeling that they would get along quite well.

Ana frowned at them both, but when she turned to Darius her eyebrows drew together with worry. "Darius," she whispered, reaching up to touch the three parallel scars that ran from his left temple to his jaw. "I'm so sorry…I should never have left you!"

Darius couldn't bear the sight of her tears, not after all of the hardships she'd been through. "Shhh," he hushed her, wiping them away with the back of his hand. "Hindsight is always clearest, but don't worry—it was an adventure! Tohmas even let me keep the scars as a souvenir," he said cheerfully, "I think it makes me look dashing."

Ana laughed through her tears. "Illieno was right," she said, "you forgave me far too quickly." She smiled, and then _that giggle_ was back. "You know, I think he was probably madder at me for that then you were."

"Was he, now?" Darius said, his eyes going involuntarily to where Illieno stood with Will, just a few feet away. Their eyes met, and he felt a blush rising from his toes. He looked back at Ana, "I think we're going to have a chat about Illieno very soon, but first I think you need to teach me a few useful phrases of Tortallian."

"Like what?" Ana said, her eyes twinkling, "I want you, I need you, let's make love?"

"That might be a good start," was Darius's thoughtful response.

~:~

"Are they talking about me?" Illieno whispered anxiously, his eyes on the place where Darius stood just a few feet away. "I swear I just heard him say my name…what's he saying?"

Will grinned as he heard Ana's response to Darius's request. "He said that you're freaking him out with all the sappy looks you keep giving him," he said, his voice completely deadpan.

For a moment Illieno's eyes widened and his face fell. Then he caught the wicked grin on his friend's face. "That's not funny!" he huffed, punching Will in the arm. "I'm being serious here."

Will laughed. "Has the world gone crazy?" he teased, "Illieno Reinhart being serious?"

Illieno pursed his lips and glared. "Just because you got your happy ending blah blah blah doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't get ours," he said petulantly.

Will rolled his eyes. "I seem to remember a certain somebody telling me once that words were totally unnecessary. I believe your exact words were that I should just 'shut up and kiss her already.'"

Illieno raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "I believe you also didn't listen to that little piece of advice, now did you?" he said caustically. And then the implication of Will's words sunk in. "Wait, what?" he said. "Really?"

"Really." Ana said, as she and Darius joined the conversation. "What are we talking about, again?"

"Um…"said Illieno.

"Well," said Will in Thaylian, "Illieno has this really weird rash..."

Ana burst into giggles, as Darius frowned curiously at Illieno.

"What'd you say?" Illieno demanded. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

Will couldn't hold the serious face; he erupted into laughter at the panicked look in Illieno's eyes.

"Why do I get the feeling," Darius said, his eyebrows high on his forehead as he glanced back and forth between Ana and Will's mirth. "That you two are going to milk this language thing for all its worth?"

"What'd he say?" said Illieno.

"He said he hopes it's not contagious," Ana giggled.

~ ~:~ ~


End file.
